Sapphire Hearts
by Esteel
Summary: Sapphire Hearts is a completely original story that follows Estel Blackheart, a young man of 21, and his companion, Jolteon. Set in Johto, this... More on profile...  Rated M for Use of Alcohol, Explicit Adult Themes - Nudity, Humor -; and Strong Language
1. Chapter 1

Sapphire Hearts

Esteel

**1: A Letter to Mother**

The sky was alive with numberless lights. They each twinkled and reserved, winking down upon the earth as though watching it silently from afar. Unto this night a kind surprise, one that empties the soul and fills it again with peaceful sensation, even if the sensation is mistaken for solace. Even the moon sat silently in the sky, still and lifeless, as though meditating the effective properties of the brisk autumn air dancing on its surface. Below, even, where the trees each and all gathered to hide the ones who need to be hidden. Under the thick and oily shadows, the trees, branches, and leaves, all blackened by night's inescapable embrace, the forest floor lie still and quiet. All is well, save for the slow, haunting melody of the night's creatures.

Even as a solemn Umbreon once lying dormant becomes active, his somatic light cannot pierce the brutal darkness. On this night, even the most seasoned of trainer cannot find solitude hidden well within his confines. His tent: a thin barrier for the night to slowly seep through and entangle him in restless, dreamless sleep. The amorphous goo that hung heavily in the air drained it of any light, and devoured the last scraps of hope; the slightest noise echoes throughout, but remains unheard for the fear of the cause.

There was one active, however. He slowly crept through the forest, shrouded in black clothes, whose color challenged the night that covered him. He slowly breathed and his muscles tightened as he made his way up the ancient stone steps. He dusted each stone carefully with the bottom of his shoe, leaving small traces of his existence. As he rounded the top, a small artifact lies dormant atop an elaborately designed pedestal, trimmed with ivory and carvings. Dimly lit by the soon-eclipsing moonlight, he carefully examined his surroundings as his feet carried him with very little haste to the pedestal. He removed the artifact, and triumphed. His fingers caressed the small stone statue's finely carved lines and seductive valleys. He stared at the statue in silent reflection for some time before depositing the relic into his bag.

He then turned, every hair on his body standing at the attention of some unknown force, begging his fear and frustration to the surface. He found himself face-to-face with Misdreavous, its yellow eyes glowing at him angrily. Its head danced with phantom flames and its body flowed to and fro with a gown-like appeal. His face and his heart sank as he stared deeply into the eyes of his pursuer. He breathed harder; his eyes grew wide, as his heart pounded beneath his chest. The Pokémon vanished from before him in vapors. He stared into the space that once held its form, trembling. Its glow suddenly extinguished, he attempted a small step forward, as a viscous blood-freezing screech emitted from behind him. He immediately commanded his legs to run, as he closed his eyes. He didn't say a word or make a sound, for fear of alerting others. He simply allowed his legs to carry him, but stumbled and fell down the last few of the stone steps. He tumbled, landed, and emitted a dull, sickening pop from deep within his shoulder. He grasped it painfully, squinted, and his body froze in place as he felt an incredible chill race down his back. He closed his eyes again, wishing for it to go away. The Misdreavous spoke to him in a wispy, haunting tone:

"_Human… You have… defiled… our resting ground." _He trembled as he listened to its words, wishing only for a short and painless death. The area around him grew dim and black, no longer highlighted by the moon's faint light. It spoke again slowly, as though contemplating every word before speaking it. "_The moon… favors us …and has ...shunned you. …Hear me now, human. You… and your descendants… Shall forever… know our curse…" _The Misdreavous suddenly vanished. The moon's light slowly washed over the landscape once more as the eclipse passed. The man no longer felt the terrifying chill, but his heart could not lift. He stood, memorizing the strange words. "_Know the curse… of our existence?"_ He was mesmerized by the possibilities of the meaning. He rustled it about his mind as he slowly slunk between the trees. His chest was heavy with ever-increasing pain, though he ignored it, believing it to be linked to his dislocated shoulder. He finally stopped at the edge of a large pond, falling to his knees. He found himself looking into the water, where he discovered that his chest was black and sick, as though oozing an oily substance then drinking it again as quickly. He became terrified, and trembling, a hand snaked its way into his bag to examine the treasure once more. The small stone statue of the extinct Pokémon shone dully in the moonlight. As the pain became worse and worse, a tear rolled down his cheek and fell from his chin to hydrate the statue.

These events happened nearly two hundred years ago. The man became known as Blackheart, for the terrible curse placed upon him. Rallis Blackheart became part of a little-known history, and his descendants fell victim to the greed of an infamous treasure hunter.

"So this curse," Nizibel said, curiously, "Does it affect everyone in your family?" I thought about my answer for a time, and then curled my lip disdainfully, yet somewhat in thought.

"No. It only impacts those directly descending from my great, great, great grandfather Rallis. However, because of the mixing and diluting of the blood line, even though we are direct descendants, it affects each of us differently." My finger pushed against plastic in a family album. Nizibel leaned forward to close in on the pictures buried underneath. "Our ancestor that endowed the family with a name gained a poisoned heart and lungs. His death, from what I understand, was indeed very painful. His two direct children both had painful curses as well, but neither had his exact curse."

Nizibel peered closely at the dilapidated photographs. One portrayed a young lady standing next to a Charmeleon, her face bandaged heavily. A note near the bottom read, "Necrotizing Fleshititis." Nizibel's expression became morbid as she read those words. She slowly shifted her vision otherwise, to another deeply aged photograph. This one depicted a young man standing beside a Pupitar, with his arm in a sling. A note near the bottom of the new image read plainly, "Osteogenisis Imperfecta." Her eyes became bruised, as her irises collapsed.

"Gruesome isn't strong enough of a word." She said, her voice shaking at the thought. "But I don't understand – _You_ don't have any major abnormalities." I smiled, "I've been very cautious to hide my affliction. As well, I'm not sure how or when, but somewhere along the way the bloodline became mixed with a type of gypsy blood. At that point, the curse stopped being constantly there, and started being activated by a trigger. Again, through dilution, the trigger can be just about anything." Nizibel peered down at the book. She thought for a moment, staring at the curious images clouded by time.

"It's odd." She suddenly said. I looked up at the sky above us. The sun shone through the trees, causing beams of light to shower the morning air. "Odd? Indulge me." Nizibel giggled as she looked up at me. "I moved to New Bark Town because my Dad asked me and Mom to when I was 10 years old. I met Brendon the day I moved here, then you in Violet City two months later. Do you remember that?" I smiled and replied, "I was 11 then. I even had a 5-year-old Laine with me and Zaps here was just an Eevee then. We ran into you as we were walking home from shopping. I also remember going with you to the gym three months after that."

She grimaced at me. "I would say, don't remind me, but you're going to anyway." She sighed as I said, "You got your ass kicked by Falkner." She looked at me disdainfully and rebutted, "_And_, it's been 10 years since then, and you don't even have the gym badge from your home town. At least I've got two." I stopped dead in my train of thought, composing an "Urk" sound. I regained my composure, and retaliated with, "And the irony is, you haven't beaten me once." A Jolteon behind us suddenly rose up and said, "He's got a point, Nizibel."

Nizibel slowly rotated her head about as though it were automated. "You. Shut the hell up." Jolteon grinned broadly. "I'll make you a deal. If you manage to beat us, I'll tell you what Estel's curse is and how it's activated!" She put a hand on her chin, giving me a smug look. My expression changed little, or rather none at all.

"Either way," I suddenly grasped the situation, "Things are gonna be different this time, aren't they?" Nizibel suddenly stood up, a fire brewing in her eyes. "That's right! I've decided to become a Pokémon Coordinator!" In the radiance of her confidence, I couldn't help but grin. Laine suddenly appeared in the doorway behind us. The shadow cast upon the doorstep made for dynamic lighting for her sudden entry into the conversation. Laine had more tomboyish tastes than other girls her age; as well she also, however, had more of a body than other girls her age. This produced interesting situations, mostly ending in some hormone-raging guy getting my fist across his cheekbone. I found it my duty to protect my little sister, after all.

My sister addressed Nizibel, "Your Mom wants to talk to you for a moment." Nizibel nodded, dusted herself off, and accessed the door. The two ladies disappeared into the house. I examined the discarded photo album and cautiously poked through the disturbing images. Jolteon came to his feet and stretched with a sudden mass of static escaping into the air. He looked about at the small community of New Bark. "What do you think she'll do when she finds out?" I chuckled as I closed the thick album. "She's not you. I doubt she'd freak out about it."

"You think so?" Jolteon hypothesized.

"I hope so." I said unsteadily. I opened the door and walked inside. Nizibel's mother saw me then suddenly rushed over and threw her arms around my abdomen. I only stand five feet, ten inches; her stature is simply vertically challenged.

"Estel! If you need anything, you let me know right away!" It forced me to stop for a moment, to ponder the situation. I glared at Laine calmly, and quizzed, "You told her about the curse, didn't you?" Laine nodded, as Nizibel's mother bawled into the room on my chest.

"Don't worry about me and Laine, ma'am. Our afflictions aren't as serious as the ones further up in our family. We aren't physically hurt when ours are triggered." She looked at me with tears still swelling her eyes. "Really? You really mean it?" I nodded with a smile. Nizibel's mother met us after Nizibel did, when she was on a shopping trip to Cherrygrove. Nizibel and I have lost our mother to an illness, our father disappeared after she died, and thus have lived on our own since I was 15. She has brought us groceries and other odds and ends during that time. If you asked anyone, they would likely believe she were our mother as well as Nizibel and Wesley's.

The day slid by unannounced, as the sky grew dark. I stared out of the large picture window in my room as Laine slept soundly across the hall. Thoughts and memories rolled around my head while my eyes gazed to the heavens. I hid behind nothing, my emotions straightforward, and my thoughts never stayed still. I thought what tomorrow would bring, my heart pounded at the thought of finally getting to be what I always wanted. The age Trainer cards could be issued rose due to some unforeseen events. When I was 10, I already knew at the time that being a Trainer wasn't in my future. But now, my twenty-first birthday behind me, I held in my grasp the ability, and a warm feeling inside of me proclaimed my calling, to finally become a Trainer. Zaps was my companion and best friend, and at long last our partnership can be formed as more than master and pet.

"Tomorrow…" I said, in a hushed tone, "Tomorrow, I'll be a Trainer… Tomorrow…" I stopped steadfast. Tomorrow is a blessing… and a curse. The stars shone against the windowpane and into my blue eyes. My look glanced away, in deep thought. Tomorrow is a thing of wonder. The greatest blessing, or the greatest weapon man and Pokémon will ever face. It is a powerful threat, whose meaning is shrouded as the best-kept secret I'll ever know. As each moment passes, a moment lost in time but burned unto memory; but the next moment will never be ascertained. It glows with a radiant uncertainty, and forever draws away from our reach. Forever known, yet mysteriously pondered. No man shall know the hour of his death, his wedding, his greatest triumph, or his greatest failure. In this I am not blessed; I too am not aware of my impending doom or victory. In the end, tomorrow may come a day too late.

I pulled myself from the small armchair, placing a hand on the cold glass of the window. _Tomorrow may come a day too late._ The revelation rotated on rusted gears around my mind, my body, and shook me down to the soul. Images of my past came boiling up…

I found myself as a 17 year-old boy, standing in a hospital, silently watching my mother from the obscure side of a window into her room. She drew in each breath slowly, inhaling each spark of life, then exhaling just as slowly. Her body was still and lifeless. Her eyes were closed, and many tubes and wires lead from her to various machines. I stared into the window as the doctor asked, "What do you want to do?"

Nizibel's mother replied, "First, explain to me exactly what happened." The doctor looked at his clipboard, put on his glasses, and cleared his throat.

He stated, "There appears to have been a conjunction of infection within her heart. When we gave her a blood thinner and sedative, the infection loosened and eventually flowed to her brain, causing a very intense stroke."

My uncle asked, "Will she be cognitive when she wakes up?"

The doctor replied, "Yes, but she will likely be unable to move or remember very much. There is also a chance she'll be little better than a vegetable."

My father asked about moving her home, but I butted in. "Can she live without the machines?" Everyone turned to look at me staring through the window.

The doctor replied, "No, you'll have to rent the machines from the hospital, and…"

I stopped him. "No. I don't want to rent the damn machines or the bed." I sighed very heavily, my breath trembling, and I turned and glared him directly in the eye. "You asked what we wanted to do, correct?"

He slowly nodded. I looked through the window again to see the same woman breathing heavily into a tube, heaving each breath like it was her last. I stated plainly, "I want Mama to stop hurting."

My father walked to me, and then placed his hand on my shoulder. "Are you sure?"

I said, "Yes. Mama's in a lot of pain. It's gonna hurt to turn off those machines, but Mama hurts a lot more right now. Besides, the Mama I know would _rather _die than be a vegetable." I put a hand on the window and leaned against it as a tear rolled down my cheek.

My uncle stated through a garbled voice, "I agree. Turn the machines off." Nizibel's mother nodded.

Father turned to the doctor. "Turn the machines off." The doctor called in a nurse and the two filed around the room, turning off switches, unplugging machines, and removing tubes and wires. I watched in cold agony as they exited, and lead father, my uncle, and Nizibel's mother to the waiting room. I entered the darkened ICU room, now only lit by the cardio graph, now making less frequent beeps.

In slow motion I made my way to the left side of the bed; where her hand lay out, open. I pulled up a rocking chair from the side. I lay my head on her bed, and grasped her hand. I said aloud into the room, "Mama. I love you. I always have, and that'll never change. I don't want you to come back this time. No, I want something different. You've been through a lot. You've suffered more than I can imagine, yet you took very good care of me and Laine. You raised us well Mama, and as repayment, the least I can do is make you proud, and see to it that you don't hurt anymore." Suddenly, as my tears started to fall to the floor, her hand clenched mine in return, as she wheezed out, "Th-th-th-thaaank-k y-y-o-o-o-u, E-s-s-s-t-t-e-l-l-l. I l-l-l-o-v-v-e y-o-o-o-u a-a-n-d-d-d L-l-l-l-a-a-i-n-n-n-e v-e-e-r-r-r-r-y… M-m-much." I laid my head there for some time. I looked sharply at the cardiograph as the line finally fell flat. The time said: July 7th, 1047; 7:07:00 pm. I stood as her grasp slowly let go. I said calmly, through my tears, "Bye, Mama. We love you, too, and we'll always miss you." And in slow motion, she faded into the background as I slowly trod down the hall. As I walked into a hallway that held no people, I stopped and leaned against a wall. At that very moment, I felt a warm hand being placed on my shoulder, but no one was there. However, I know whose hand it was. I crouched, leaning against the wall. I buried my face in my hands as tears flowed out and landed on the floor.

I made a solemn promise that day, to never forget. I take care of my little sister not because I have to, but because our mother gives me strength. The tattoo on my shoulder is that of a hand drawing a heart. The heart is not complete, and never will be. I watched over my little sister's bed, as she lay sleeping. I lifted her satin blonde hair, and pressed my lips against her forehead. I said quietly, "I'll always take care of you, no matter what."

I turned and exited the room, but as I closed the door, I heard from behind me in a light and airy voice, "You don't need to tell me that. I already know." I stopped for a moment, smiled warmly, and closed the door tight. I laid my head against the cool glass of my window, peering across the road to Nizibel's house. All the windows were dark. "Is this okay?" I thought. My eyes exemplified weariness, but finally my expression changed.

I grinned warmly again as Jolteon asked, "Is what okay?"

"It doesn't matter. Come tomorrow, anyway." I replied.

"What happens tomorrow, besides us setting out?" Jolteon asked quizzically.

"That's just it. I haven't a damn clue." I gazed to the heavens, searching star to star.

"What kind of answer is that?" Jolteon questioned.

"Exactly as it sounds. Tomorrow's events will unfold as we live them. There's no guarantee we'll even come back alive, or the same human and Pokémon." Jolteon stirred, repositioning himself.

Jolteon yawned, "If you say so."

_Journal Entry #1, Clear, March 25__th__, 1052._

_Nizibel appeals to me. She's very intelligent and charming, but something begs me to look the other way for now. I'll do just that, in hopes that the time may present itself. She has thus far failed to discover my affliction, and I hope that she's ready when she does. I'm not a dreamer; I do not plan on fooling myself into believing she'll never know. However, I do not fear for myself, and I will always have Zaps by my side._

_What is tomorrow? For that matter, when did "Today" take place? We forever live between moments, the previous one forever slipping away, the next forever out of reach. I have a lot of questions that I have hopes to answer each on my own. But for now, I'll look gleefully to the future, and may our travels bring us fortune and friendship. Possibly more._

_When I pick up this pen and remove it from this page, I'm going to be closing a grim chapter of my life. One that was filled with important people, some that seem to have fallen off the stage, some carried away in a coffin, and some just trying to keep everything together. I think it's my turn to step up to the stage. My spotlight will never be brighter than Mama's, and in hindsight, I don't want it to be. My spotlight will be created by my actions and mine alone._

_To my loving Mother, who watches over me, still._


	2. Chapter 2

**2: A Letter to My Dearest Sister**

I hung over my bedside, disturbing the ashes of a recent memory distilled in soulful thought. I felt a warmth wash over my face, the early morning sun pouring through the large picture window. It found me tightening the laces of heavy leather boots and then draping blackened denim over their girth. My bed sighed to my flow, and then ebbed into rest once more. I turned, the sun covering me in a warm sensation. The tattoos I wore, each of the 6 telling a story in silent words, suddenly grew cold with the shadow of a dark blue shirt. I swung it around wide, my sister watching me intently, and it buttoned into place, starting at my waist and popping each plastic piece into place up to my neck. I opened the window, as the navy material fluttered about in the swift morning breeze. Laine crossed the room and stood at my side.

"Are you ready?" Laine said, motioning her hair aside; her vibrant viridian eyes glittering in the sun.

"Will I ever be?" I spilled out the words, as though throwing caution to the wind before speaking.

"You're the big brother here, and it's your life, isn't it? Why wouldn't you just live it and leave advice for later?" Her gaze redirected to me.

I chuckled. "That's a valid question. I don't have an answer, though."

"You're one of the most intelligent people I know. But I think you're too blinded by the questions to _see_ the answer." She said, turning towards the door.

I combed my fingers through the hair on my chin. "Blinded by the question." I glanced in her direction, "That may be true, but wouldn't the inverse be correct, also?"

She stopped at the door. Her hand fell from the knob. "The… Inverse?"

The air became heavy, even foggy in places. I drew in, and exhaled, "Being too blinded by the answer to see the question."

She rotated her body slowly, facing me directly. Her eyebrow was raised, and she cautiously asked, "How does that relate to anything?"

I suddenly realized what I said, and replied, "Nothing. Never mind. I'll be downstairs in a moment." I stared blankly out the window for a time, reflecting on my own words.

Laine pitched her shoulders and vanished through the doorway. I initiated gathering various odds and ends, supplies that would come in handy, as well as various articles of clothing. Each marched into a backpack. As the pack entered a completed state, I swiveled it about and the load came to rest on my back. I picked up a satchel and mounted it upon my shoulder. It contained necessities geared towards the training and upkeep of Pokémon. I made my way to the hallway, but stopped fast at the door.

"Will you be joining me or do you desire to sleep all day?" I said, without turning around. A Jolteon lay at the foot of my bed, each paw carefully placed vertically above the sleeping Pokémon. His head lay perfectly, hanging over the side of the bed with a line of unmistakable fluid connecting from his mouth to the floor. I sighed at the answer of a soft snore, and calmly made my way to the side of the bed. I then proceeded to lift the bed up, and turn it over. Just as calmly as I went to it, I retreated to the door as Jolteon pulled himself from beneath the thick tangle of sheets and mattress. He wobbled his way to the door, smacking his lips and barely holding his eyes open.

"Was that necessary, asshole?" He inquired through a deep yawn.

"Yes it was. I'd rather not leave my partner behind." I said, coolly.

Among the dampened footsteps, I found myself descending into a new room, clad in bright colors and utensils utilized in the culinary arts and fashion. Jolteon bounded into the room, sitting on the hard floor next to a girl standing at the stove, disposed behind apron, and intrigued by the crack and sizzle before her. At the table sat a lovely young lady, bright brunette hair dangling, her shoulders just out of reach. Frameless spectacles sat on flattering freckles, pronouncing the sky blue in her eyes. Garbed in light hiking wear, she sat firmly in place, hiding behind a book portraying the tale of some great adventure. A cool breeze floated through, highlighting the morning air.

We each laughed and disassembled the gratuitous stale atmosphere. Laine filled us with delicious food, that we may not forget her in our time apart. Nizibel shared secrets of the trade, and I compared them to my own. We discussed subjects of our previous encounters, and escaped reality for a moment at least. The clock struck 9:00 am, when Laine accompanied us to Professor Elm's lab, where our journey started, and our time stuck in primordial adulthood ended. The world called for people like us, those willing to take a stand and accomplish what we thought was right. I believe completely that a Trainer is what I was always meant to do, and I shall take it under oath to proceed with confidence into that destiny.

Professor Elm looked over the papers carefully. "What about Laine, Estel? Doesn't she still need you to take care of her? She's still in school, so a job is out of the question…"

"Don't worry about Laine. I've left plenty of money in a bank account she has access to. She can take care of herself; she's not a child anymore." I said, without hesitation.

"Then, I am happy to say, that as of today, you're a Licensed Trainer." Elm proclaimed, straightening the papers. "I assume that Jolteon shall be registered as your beginner Pokémon?"

"No," I said, plainly. "Jolteon shall be registered to me, as well as…" I pulled three Poké balls from my satchel, one of a violet hue, one of deep crimson and bright yellow hues, and one of a solid white color, "…these two. I want the white one registered as my starter." Elm placed the balls into the machine, one after another.

"Are you positive of that? Jolteon is obviously your strongest, and I could see you using your Flareon," He said, pointing to the warmly colored ball, "But why such a young Eevee?"

Jolteon spoke up. "Estel's reason is very profound. I have no problems with it, so I say just allow it." Nizibel stared intently at the violet ball as Elm handed it back to me.

"Is something wrong, Nizibel?" Elm asked pointedly.

"No. Nothing. Is Estel ready to receive is trainer card?" Nizibel replied.

"Yes. I'm going to set him as an Eevee trainer, because he carries three with him." Elm said, typing several entries.

I put the balls back into my satchel. "That's great, actually. Specializing is more of a way to show someone that I mean business."

Elm reaches to a nearby machine, which produces a small plastic card. He handed it to me, stating, "I'm glad you feel that way. Congratulations, Eevee Specialist Estel Blackheart."

I took the card and examined it with a sense of pride. I followed Nizibel outside, where I held the newborn card to the sun. Laine looked at it closely, exclaiming towards the Eevee flavoring. She enjoyed its appeal, and followed it as I placed it into my wallet.

"So I guess this is it, isn't it?" Laine said, sadly.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I interjected.

"I mean to say, you're leaving now, aren't you?" Laine replied, looking at me disdainfully.

"I hate long goodbyes. But in short, yes. However, I know you won't forget me." I said, sliding my fingers through her hair.

"Of course not!" She exclaimed.

"Then I won't be really leaving, now will I?" I said, smiling. "Mama still walks with me, in my heart. She walks with you, too, Laine. If you listen quietly, you can always hear her heartbeat alongside your own. Just knowing that she'll never leave our side gives me courage."

Laine's eyes glistened in the sun, as Nizibel smiled warmly. "Everyone on the face of this planet has a heartbeat, don't they?" I asked Laine suddenly.

"Yeah, I suppose they would." She said, satisfied.

"Then listen for them, and you'll hear mine." Her eyes broadened, then collapsed as she said quietly, "Thank you, big brother."

Laine waved to us from the steps to our house. The sun reached an apex in the day, shining brightly. We waved in return, and set out into the wilderness at the edge of town, due west for Cherrygrove. The small white house my sister resided in was devoured by the horizon behind us, and the scenery before us begged to be traversed.

The road ahead curved and wove its way through the thicket, endlessly treading about the trees. My gear rustled lightly, as Nizibel gazed lightly into a small electronic device that glowed with a colorful map of the enormous Johto region. A small dot shrouded a location, dictating our current placement.

"It will take 'til nightfall to reach Cherrygrove at our current pace." She said, pressing her fingers into a few buttons with a series of soft clicks.

"Assuming, that is, we don't run into any trouble." I said, my knuckles crackling, "Don't tell me you expect this to go smoothly. In fact, I _hope_ it doesn't."

"If I add in you to the equation, given enough incentive, we won't be there tomorrow morning." She said, looking at me sharply.

"Give me _some _credit, tits. I wouldn't dare let a single battle drag out for more than a few minutes. _You_ might want to savor a fight, but personally, I'd rather see the end of it and get to the next one." I said, boastfully. Nizibel giggled, her smile radiating into the air around me. Jolteon smiled, but looked the other way in an attempt of appearing cool.

_Journal Entry #2, Partly Cloudy, March 26__th__, 1052._

_Pokemology – Route 29 was shrouded in dense forest. The primary specimens were Pidgey and Sentret. Rattata loosely populated the underbrush as well. Scarcely, we discovered Exeggcute and Hoppip in small clearings. We found a single Ladyba and two Heracross hidden in the branches of scattered trees. A small nest of Spinarak was nestled deep into the forest's heart. It appears that the insect species were more inclined to hiding in the leaves than leave themselves and their young open to Pidgey attacks. One of the Heracross was feeding upon a Rattata, but as a Diurnal insect, it makes sense in this way that Rattata, being Cathermal Mice Pokémon, come out at night more-so than day._

_Herbology – Route 29 possessed no interesting Flora._

_We encountered very few hostile wild Pokémon. Also, what was encountered was relatively weak in comparison to the broad scale of Wild creatures. In spite of this, the newborn Eevee, only a year old, found a calling in Battle. He grew rapidly, and adapted to new heights surprisingly quickly. My computer ranks him at rank 9 now, which amazed Nizibel to no end. This worries me, because his thirst took him well beyond his natural abilities. No matter what potion I offered him, he simply shrugged off the damage and kept fighting. In the future, his temper will need to be handled. For now, I'll use his enthusiasm to plough through his training. _

_Nizibel also participated in the random battles. She used her skills to defeat a younger trainer of 16 on his way to New Bark. She went into the battle nervous of her lack of practice, but in the end swept the 1-on-1 battle with her Quilava, Oliver. While not her first Pokémon, she's developed a very powerful bond of trust with the fire-type. She also favors the Ghost-type, with her first being a Misdreavus named Missy._

_I feel as though I accomplished at least a small goal today. My life seems to be rushing up to meet me, as though I'd awakened from a very long dream. Even just sitting here in this hotel room writing this journal entry fills me with a lust for life I can't explain. Maybe I'll be able to explain it after a night's rest. That is, assuming I could ever sleep with this much excitement coursing through my veins._

The black leather bound book pressed together and clasped with a soft click. The room, enveloped in shadows, contained the soft sounds of a comatose Pokémon and young lady. They each rested softly, images of the previous day dancing within them. Nizibel's blanket moved slightly with each of her breaths. Her glasses lay forgotten on the nightstand between our beds, magnifying the moon's light onto a small space before it. Lights dashed around the room at irregular intervals, travelers passing our window in the dead of night. My lamp suddenly darkened, and the moon's beams suddenly shuttered behind sheer satin. I lay my head upon the pillow, Jolteon close by my side. The room swirled around me, drawing me into the darkness. Like a spotlight, I searched the wall for some sign of slumber. Minute after minute drew by, my mind slowly circling with reminiscence of the hours past.

I opened my eyes with utmost apathy. The room around me was swept away. My eyes moved slowly around, as the deep fuzziness cleared slightly. I was in the heart of a dark fog, my mind barely escaping to wonder. My irises fluttered about, waning from one focus to another. My breath was heavy and delayed, as though a great weight stood upon my chest. My body numb, I slowly opened my eyes further to behold a dimly lit cave. My head was pitched to my left side, slumping indiscriminately. Before me was a darkly-colored lump upon the floor, lifeless and still. It was covered in soft fur, which frayed to and fro. Its shape was indiscernible, but I was able to comprehend that it was not Jolteon. The cool rock floor was followed by my eyesight to the bottom of a wall. I turned my head painfully, and my eyes followed it up. Out of view, Jolteon bounded towards me. His front paws landed upon me and pushed back and forth. I felt nothing, and heard nothing from his moving mouth. His paws were red-stained with some foreboding dye.

I returned my attention to the wall ahead of me. The top was a striking distance from the ground, a small cliff. The dim light caused me to focus and squint. I made the figure of a person, whom I did not recognize; a female, but not Nizibel. Her form pressed against the shadowy fog, climaxing the colors and highlights around her. My head fell, neck muscles giving way; pain escalating and vibrating through a numb and broken body. I stared diligently at the still and listless lump before me. Its dark fur mesmerizing, and its hallow existence fading quickly.

In the cold, lifeless dark I peered weak and weary into a foreboding abyss. My eyes fixed on that single creature whose life was taken, and whose identity will forever remain in limbo, crisis unto itself. The world became suddenly warped as though all color faded from existence, devoured by the fog. The fog became cold and piercing, bleaching the life from the world and swirling around me. The rocks, the lump on the floor, and the red pool growing steadily underneath me became grey, then dark, until finally pitch black. A single light floated into view. Its warm glow diffused the piercing cold and the black void. My arms broken and battered, my legs shattered, and my neck twisted in ways unfit for living, I still reached for it. It drew me in, slowly radiating its warmth to wash over me, renewing me. It grew larger, its form wildly vivid in the world of grey and muck. Of purest white, its color shone of every explicit form of light. I found myself in a vortex of life and death, swirling doom and birth from dawn 'til dusk. Whispers shrouded me, chants of truth and lies, of the light and of the dark. They each phased through me, embedding their lies and taint on my body and soul. The ink and image of each tattoo were ripped from my flesh then displayed as trophies for the whispers – the whispers told their stories and I listened, helpless.

Suddenly, a voice shone through the whispers – all the thought I've had; the doubts and concerns, the words I've spoken in vain and in wisdom. My own voice silenced the vile tendrils of darkness. With wordless lips, I listened to my own voice from the past: "Father, where are you going?" "Dad, I can't raise Laine on my own!" "When I count the stars, I forget why I'm counting." In the distance, between whispered words, I hear a small noise. The whispers began burrowing deeper as each moment is passed before my eyes. "I wish we'd never had to live this way." My voice echoed its doubt and concern through the empty space. The small noise in the distance grew ever louder. "Sometimes… I wish the whole goddamn situation would just go to hell!" The noise in the distance drew into close range. "Fuck this shit; I can't see my life getting any better – nor Laine's! You fucking assholes made goddamn sure to fuck that up!"

The small noise grew louder, its echo shattering each whisper. Suddenly, I saw Laine: bound in nighttime clothing. She sat upon her bed, weeping and staring out the window at the stars. The tears streaming down her cheeks glistened in the moonlight beaming into the window's inviting pane. She moved her mouth, but no words emerged. Her tears flooded the attempt as she bit her lip. "The world thrives on the strength of others." My mother's voice suddenly echoed into my thoughts. "The weak survive because the strong protect them." The whispers each scattered and the lifeless dark enshrouded me once more. "And the strong survive because they have someone weak they care about." I closed my eyes. "I remember you telling me that." I said, quietly. I floated into the space for a time, then a memory found its way to the surface: "When I woke up from my coma when you were 14, "Did I miss my children's birthdays?" Was the first thing I asked the nurse." I smiled warmly at the sound of her voice. "I dreamt in that slumber that I was walking in a tunnel with a powerful white light ahead of me, and you and your sister holding your father's hand behind me." The silence returned for a short pause, "Then you rushed up, grabbed my hand and said without even a single tear in your eye and shouted, "Mama! Come back!" Then you said softly, "We love you."" I opened my eyes, where a bright light surrounded me in this floating space. "You used to tell me that story all the time." I said, softly into the light. Suddenly, Nizibel's voice took over: "You were the one that did something in her dream because you're strong, Estel. You're strong and because of that you protected the weak. Your little sister, your Mama, and your Dad were all weak at that time, but you… You stepped up to be strong." Her voice carried through the world, as my eyes opened wide. At the time, I paid no mind to what she said, but _here_ it seemed like a booming voice of commanding gesture. Her voice echoed into the distance, "You're strong and because of that you protected the weak." "You stepped up to be strong…When your sister and Dad couldn't."

My eyes slowly crept open. The ceiling of the hotel room glowed with the early morning sun. I stared for some time, perhaps waiting for something. I pulled myself from the bed's confines, careful not to disturb the sleeping Jolteon. I glanced at the clock, whose face glowed red numbers reading, 8:14 AM. My feet felt the warm carpet of the floor, which I stared at blankly. Nizibel stirred and rose from her bed. She pulled her arms behind her and stretched. She yawned deeply, but peered at me through tired eyes.

"Estel?" She asked, "Are you alright?" She leaned down between the beds, her night gown draping over her lightly. I nodded in response, without picking my head up.

"Are you sure?" She said, leaning underneath me. I looked at her squarely. "I can see everything down your shirt." She looked down, and her large bra size hung peacefully without a cover under the thin draping, close enough that one could count her freckles. She stood up suddenly and turned around. "Then don't look! They're mine, and I'll do what I want with them."

"But was hanging them out to dry like that necessary?" I said, pulling a pair of pants over my boxers. She blushed heavily and disappeared into the bathroom in a sudden hurry.

Outside, we made our way around the brightly-lit town. "So, does this mean I get to call you Tits more often?" I said, grinning at her. "NO!" She shouted, her face bathed in red. "And if you bring it up again, I _will_ gouge your eyes out!" She said, flustered and crossing her arms. I couldn't help but laugh.

Cherrygrove was peaceful. A gentle breeze floated through from the sea, then mixed with the forest air to create a cocktail of spring fragrance. The sun showered through the trees in the east with beams of powerful light, as though spotlights on a grand stage. Nizibel's eyes glistened in the morning sun, their vibrant color strikingly similar to the sky above us, populated by few clouds drifting on the breeze. We stirred the air around us, making our path among talking to various people on the street in favor of being polite. We paid small visits to the Pokécenter and Pokémart, but then departed on our way to Violet City, where my first badge awaited me patiently.

"So what exactly do you write in that black book of yours?" Nizibel asked. The country road crunched and crumbled beneath our feet, leading wildly into the Forest. The beams of the morning sun danced between the leaves rustling gently in the breeze. I breathed in heavily, and smiled.

"I take notes. People we've met, places we've been. …Things we've seen." She looked at me disdainfully, "I _told_ you not to bring that up again."

I looked about nonchalantly, "I have_ no idea _what you're talking about."

"Whatever. Fuck it. So, may I see this book?" She asked, her face in quizzical posture.

I thought for a moment, a deep hum coming from my throat. "Not right now."

She became somewhat puzzled. Before she could speak again, a Weedle leaped from the nearby grass, peering angrily at us. Nizibel, without a second's hesitation, screamed violently. She immediately hid behind me. I sighed, as a Pokéball soared through the air. My young Eevee emerged from the ball, staring the bug-type down with all his fury.

I gave the word, and Eevee charged for the Weedle, who gave not an inch. It countered with poison sting, but Eevee smoothly disengaged its path. Eevee shoved its entire body into the Weedle, knocking it out in one attack. Eevee cheerfully bounded back to us. Nizibel thanked it continuously as it smiled happily at her. I looked up and into the tree canopy to behold many bug Pokémon swarming about. I searched the horizon, spotting no signs of deforestation or reasons for the bugs to be hiding. Nizibel looked to my field of vision, where she noticed the bugs as well. She suddenly slumped to the ground, shielding her head with her hands, and whimpering quietly. I scooped her up, Jolteon sniffing her softly. "Think she'll be alright?" Jolteon asked. "Yeah. We just need to get her out of this forest. Afterward, I want to go see Mr. Pokémon. He lives just a short walk in, and he'd know what's going on." I settled the quivering Nizibel in my arms, as she hid her eyes against my chest.

I began walking towards Cherrygrove, Nizibel's body shivering in trauma. I carried her in expedience for the entire reverse of the short time we'd spent walking. Upon entering Cherrygrove, I was greeted by a Nurse of the nearby Human Clinic, who exclaimed at her appearance.

"What happened? Is she okay?" The nurse asked frantically.

"She has a phobia. Entomophobia, the fear of insects and Bug Pokémon." Jolteon explained. The nurse seemed more shocked at Jolteon's ability to speak than the phobia itself.

"There were swarms of Bug-type Pokémon in the forest. I fear that something has happened to the forest's biome. I'm going to see Mr. Pokémon about it." I said, calmly. The nurse hurried us to the nearby Clinic, where she summoned a Chancey pushing a stretcher. I laid Nizibel onto the cushioning, and covered her with a blanket. The shock in her eyes was deep; I felt that she would be better taken care of here.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," I instructed, "Here's my card; any expenses will be covered by it." I handed the nurse a blue card engraved with numbers, as well as my name. I hurried out the door, Jolteon directly on my heels.

We hurried through the forest. "Estel, if we meet any angry Pokémon, it will be best to deal with them quickly. We don't have time, for Nizi's sake, to battle them one by one like before."

"You have a good point. Alright, Flareon is coming out." In midstride, I brought out the fiery red ball, and opened it to reveal a vibrantly-colored and well-groomed Flareon, which radiated heat and light as it ran. It immediately erupted with spitfire, warding off several bugs along the path.

We diverged up the hill from the fork. A less-traveled path led through a dense thicket, and finally to the house of Mr. Pokémon, where I halted running for a time. Jolteon and Flareon both caught their breath, as I found myself supporting on bent knees, watching sweat drip to the ground. I rose to find several other trainers already here, complaining about the bugs. Mr. Pokémon was swamped with questions. I pushed my way up to the light crowd of at least 12, but no more than 20. In the commotion, Mr. Pokémon was attempting to settle down several younger trainers at once. I suddenly shouted over the crowd very loudly, to no avail.

I looked down at Jolteon, who knew what I was thinking. Flareon sat quietly next to him, puzzled. Jolteon built up electricity and then suddenly caused a massive CLAP of thunder. The static around him faded, as all the trainers looked at me, utterly speechless.

"May I ask, good sir, what is going on?" I asked over the silenced crowd. Everyone turned to look at Mr. Pokémon. He adjusted his glasses and tapped his cane upon the ground.

"Two years ago, a Trainer's Mandate was signed. You see, because of under-population of bug Pokémon due to trainer activity, bird and other predatory Pokémon also went downhill. Therefore, in order to prevent extinction in these parts, the Trainer's Mandate was signed, meaning that the only Pokémon allowed to be attacked here were either rare Pokémon that wander, such as Whismur and Buizel, or Pokémon that attack the trainer, in other words, when the Trainer must defend him (or her) self. This massive population of bugs is the repercussions of that Mandate. Here at the beginning of spring, they're coming out of hibernation and in mass numbers. I've already called a Ranger, they should be here soon." Mr. Pokémon looked at me with worried eyes, as the trainers behind him mumbled to themselves.

"What happens if the mandate gets repealed?" A young lady asked.

"I don't know. The bug population needs to be kept in check somehow." Mr. Pokémon said, politely.

"Well, I say it stays in place. The bugs here don't hurt anybody, do they?" A young man questioned.

"They do." I said, assertively, "I came here looking for answers because my traveling companion went into psychological shock. She has a very rare phobia called Entomophobia. It means literally, "The Fear of Bugs." Also, I encountered a very angry Weedle earlier that I was forced to defend myself against. I expect with the population mounting, some of the more territorial species are becoming angry with other species as well as trainers. This could become dangerous if left unattended."

"You're absolutely correct." I looked to the left side of the clearing Mr. Pokémon's house sat in. Two Pokémon Rangers were making their way out of the trees. One was a senior officer, clothed in more decorated clothing. The other was an officer as well, far more decorated than a normal Ranger, whom was the speaker. "These bugs are indeed a problem. But, we have no way of dealing with the problem quickly."

"So what are you suggesting?" A young man only slightly taller than myself said, he caught my eye – he had powerfully red, blood red eyes and snowy white hair. He was gangly, and stood next to a towering fellow of at least 6' 5" and blazing red hair.

"We've already deactivated the Mandate; we quite frankly expected this to happen. We're suggesting that the Trainers take care of the bugs systematically." The senior officer said.

"If you were expecting this, why did you sit on your fucking asses, and laugh like fucking idiots while we all went through hell out here?" The man with red hair exclaimed.

"Calm down. There's no need for hostile language." The junior officer stated.

"Besides, there are ladies about." Mr. Pokémon added.

"To answer your question, our surveillance station went down about two weeks ago. We've been trying to find someone to repair it, as the manufacturer closed its doors years ago." The senior officer stated.

"What purpose did the station serve?" Mr. Pokémon asked.

"Our other option, alternate to the Mandate, was to create a reserve around the station that no trainer was allowed access to. It would create the population, which would bleed into the wild. The rangers could take care of any internal population difficulties." The senior responded.

"A reserve?" A young lady asked, "That would easily take care of the population."

"And it would make this area a great training ground, if all the Pokémon became free game." A young man standing next to her said.

"But the problem still lies that the station is in disrepair." The junior ranger rebutted.

Everyone appeared defeated. They all looked towards the ground, hanging their heads. Some in deep thought, others simply wallowing.

"What kind of problem is it?" Jolteon suddenly spoke up.

Everyone looked about frantically, searching for the source of the voice.

"Down here." Jolteon said, as I pointed downward. Everyone peered down.

"Yes. I can talk. Now answer my question." Everyone exclaimed, buzzing with chatter. Even the rangers were completely taken aback.

"It's not uncommon for a Pokémon to be able to speak human, some are simply naturally adept at it." Mr. Pokémon calmed everyone. "Now rangers, please answer the Pokémon's question.

The senior officer looked at the junior. The senior spoke up, "We're not exactly sure, to be honest. Our best techs suggest it could be a problem with the mainframe. The entire system refuses to power up, but the generator works perfectly fine. An electric Pokémon wouldn't help."

"Not me. Him." Jolteon said, putting his paw against my leg.

"Sir, do you have any knowledge that could help us?" The junior Ranger asked me directly.

"Jolts went a longer way around than I would, but yes, I'm a licensed Information Technology Hardware Specialist." I said, calmly.

"If you need a fence built, I can do that, I'm a Contractor by trade." Another man said from the side.

"If it means getting the hell out of this forest, then lead us all there – We'll get this shit done." The man with red hair said.

"That's far from what we expected, but it works to everyone's favor." The junior ranger stated, looking at the Senior.

"Very well, then. Please, everyone interested in helping please follow us to the station." The senior ranger led on, followed by myself, then by several others. Some stayed behind to speak to Mr. Pokémon.

We walked through the verdant thicket, climbing over various obstacles and warding the bugs in the trees. By the time we reached the path, several of the Trainers' Pokémon were following us, including a Charizard following the man with red hair. We followed the path for a small time, where we headed east into the forest, using a very seldom used trail. A pair of Scyther, one from the Junior Ranger and one from a younger Trainer of the Group cut vines and overgrowth from our path.

The senior Ranger walked beside me as other trainers kept close eye on the trees around us. "Did I hear that your partner suffers from Entomophobia?" He said, ruffling his beard.

"That is correct, sir. I carried her back to Cherrygrove; she's resting in the Clinic now." I said, looking about carefully. Jolteon and Flareon watched the trees cautiously, as though expecting an ambush.

"That was very intelligent of you. Know that the Rangers' prayers go with her." He stated. "Thank you very much." I nodded to him.

"So you're a real IT, aren't you? Where is your degree from?" He inquired.

"Nowhere. I learned everything I know for myself. It interested me from a young age, so I took the test for the license at age 18 and passed on the first try."

"You're very lucky. Most people won't have that license until late 20s." He said, impressed.

"He's also very smart. I'm proud to call him my partner." Jolteon said, smiling.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen a talking Jolteon before. It's very peculiar." He said.

"I've had him since he was an egg. I received him for my 5th birthday, and then evolved him with the Thunderstone I received for my 10th. We've been inseparable since." I said, gleefully. "I'm Blackheart, by the way. Estel Blackheart."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Blackheart. You may call me Stern." I looked at his metal name badge, which displayed, "CAPT STERN."

"I assume someone in your family was a sailor?" I asked politely.

He chuckled heartily. "Very insightful. Yes, my great-great grandfather was a Sailor, and dubbed the family with this name. I am told he was a very pretentious man."

"The surname Blackheart came from much longer ago. A man named Rallis stole a sacred artifact from a Misdreavous shrine and was cursed. His chest became blackened and bruised, thus he became known as Rallis Blackheart." I said, searching around. Flareon engulfed a small space of air with a powerful spitfire to ward the bugs.

"That sounds like an interesting history. I'd be thrilled to hear it sometime." Stern said, grinning.

"First, let's get rid of the bugs, I wanted to be in Violet City by now." I said, with a slight blood thirst in my tone.

We cut through the forest's very old pathway and suddenly came to a small clearing holding an old, dilapidated concrete building. The dish atop the building looked near-new, but completely lifeless and stationary. The windows were dark, and the generator's expected hum was nowhere to be found. A pile of fencing material lay to the side, apparently awaiting assembly. The droning buzz of insects was deafening in this deep bowel of the forest.

"Alright. I need two teams. One team will go with Sergeant McCallihan to secure the perimeter. The other team will be charged with putting the fence in place. I will show you where the fence needs to go." The trainers then neatly split themselves up, based on the Pokémon with them. "Blackheart, will you be alright by yourself?"

I looked down at my two Pokémon on the ground. "I trust my Pokémon with my life. Flareon has a type advantage, and Jolteon may not look like much, but he can handle himself."

"Alright. In that case, MOVE OUT!" The other trainers disappeared into the wilderness.

I made my way to the door, which the handle turned effortlessly. I turned the switch, which had no effect. "Jolteon. Hit the generator. Jump start it if needed." The Pokémon nodded, and dashed with great haste around the corner. I waited a few moments, and after a short BZZT sound, the lights and a drilling hum faded into perspective. I entered the room, which appeared to have been untouched by time. To one side was a set of electronic equipment with two computers, scanning radar, and a HAM radio, with a black rack nestled into the corner. On the other side, what appeared to be living quarters for up to six contained all the luxuries. There were bunk beds hidden behind a half-wall, with a kitchen and table in the corner to the right of the door.

I pulled my satchel from my shoulder and removed my laptop. Jolteon bounded into the newly lit room and pushed the door closed behind him. I plugged the laptop into a slot on the black rack, but to no avail. There was no power on the rack. I immediately opened it, where I discovered several nodes on the motherboard damaged. After disconnecting each component, I pulled the motherboard from the case and laid it upon the table. I punched the serial numbers into my laptop, and examined the page. Up-Co, a sister division of DevCo, created the motherboard, but as stated by the Rangers, shut down due to budget cuts three years ago. I examined the architectural schematics, and with a saudering iron from my bag, was able to re-enable working condition. I then replaced the board into the mainframe. I stopped suddenly, as a knock came over the door. It opened to reveal Stern, who entered.

"Everything outside is going fantastically. The scouting group managed to find a Beedrill hive and secure it with some gas. We'll be adding it to the reserve, as well as a Butterfree field nearby. How is your end coming along?" He asked.

"I've got the malfunctioned part fixed, I believe, but I'm going to need some cooling." I said, making a few connections.

He suddenly perked up, "There were some parts that came with it that there were no instructions for, and I bet that's what you're talking about." I turned around, as Jolteon carried a small box from the rear storage room. "Is this it?" He said, muffled. "Yes! That's the ones!" Stern said, excited.

I finalized each connection and took hold of the box. I looked towards the ceiling, were an air vent was pulling upward. I installed one fan at the top of the case, and the other at the bottom, where two feet of space allowed air flow. I plugged each fan into the power supply, and then switched it on. The flow was very breezy, exactly what I was looking for. I pressed the power button, and several lights came on and a small hum occurred. I retreated to the electronic equipment, which I turned on one-by-one. The dumb terminals each flashed to life, and a creaking noise was emitted from the roof, signaling the satellite dish moving. The terminals each showed perfect connection to the mainframe.

"Looks like everything is working properly. I didn't see anything else that would go wrong immediately." I said, looking through system diagnostics on each terminal. "Memory and processing are stable, looks like page file usage is nominal, and it looks like there aren't any connectivity protocol issues."

"It's all Greek to me; you lost me at Memory and Processing." Stern said with a shocked look on his face. "But as long as you say it works, I'll take your word for it."

We exited the building, as the two teams were chatting. Several large Pokémon, mostly fighting-type, stood about. The sun had reached its 2 o'clock setting in the sky. McCallihan stepped forward.

"Is the Mainframe up?" He said, as the trainers continued to chat.

"Yes. We can send a report to HQ, thanks to Blackheart here." Stern said as McCallihan extended his hand to me. "Thank you very much. We would've still been in the dark if not for you." I clenched his hand and shook it, "No problem. Anytime, it will be my pleasure."

"So, are we getting paid?" Said a young lady, jokingly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. There's money involved? Shitfuck, where's my cut?" The red-haired man.

"Calm down, Kit. Stern and I have already spoken on this subject. We'll be getting each of your payment information. You'll each be compensated for your assistance to the rangers." McCallihan finished as a Jeep pulled up from the road, driven by a female ranger and Nizibel in the passenger seat.

The ranger exited the vehicle and aided the young lady from her seat. She was blindfolded, as though to keep her from seeing the bugs. The ranger aided her to me, as the other trainers spoke with McCallihan. "Nizibel! Are you alright?" Jolteon suddenly exclaimed. "Yes, I'm fine now, thank you. If Estel hadn't taken me back to Cherrygrove, they expect I could've fallen into a shock-induced coma."

"So I'm guessing the blindfold keeps you from seeing the bugs?" I asked, quizzically. She nodded. "So how did the rangers…"

"After you told Captain Stern about Nizibel, he radioed to us who were sent to Cherrygrove. We brought her here to save you the trouble of walking back to get her." The ranger said, interrupting me.

"Then thank you." I said, taking Nizibel's hand. "May I get your name?" I asked the ranger.

"Thompson. Kelly Thompson. I'm just a lowbie ranger, so Kelly is just fine." She said, smiling.

The ranger suddenly jumped, reaching into her jacket pocket. She produced a small blue card. "Oh, and here's your card back – We've already processed your compensation for aiding us with the reserve project. HQ was pleased that Captain Stern found an IT profession on such short notice." She said, "We may contact you in the future for more work, if you're interested."

"I don't kno…" I suddenly felt a knee punch against my thigh. "UGH… I mean, absolutely. Anytime." I said, a weak smile showing. Nizibel smiled broadly under the blindfold, as Jolteon snickered quietly behind me.

Our journey continued as we reached the main path. The Verdant forest was alive with Trainers battling the bug Pokémon. The path was clear, save for a few that Eevee fended off easily. The forest's beauty lit up the afternoon sky, its canopy alive with the beams of the golden sun. The path before us was paved in brazen stone, moving under us. I held onto Nizibel as she walked carefully beside me. Jolteon bounded behind, and Flareon tucked safely away in her ball.

"You know, Estel…" Nizibel suddenly spoke up, "This is the first time we've held hands since we were kids." I remained silent, tempered.

"Do you have a fever?" Nizibel suddenly said, "Your hand suddenly got hot." She put her hand to my forehead, as Jolteon restrained from laughing.

"Shut up, asshole." I said strikingly to Jolteon.

"What's wrong?" Nizibel asked, puzzled.

"Speaking of things that haven't been done in a while… Estel, you may have another little Eevee on the way." Jolteon said, attempting to be nonchalant.

I turned bolt about, staring at him. "What." I said, my entire body convulsing with the word. "When did you…"

"When you were fucking around with that motherboard, I was busy being a _mother fucker_." Jolteon said, triumphantly. Nizibel giggled as I simply hung my head and sighed. "Horn dog."

"Oh yea, sure… If you had the chance, you'd tap Nizibel like there's no tomorrow." Jolteon said, grinning. Nizibel suddenly stopped giggling, now biting her lip and marinating her face in red.

"Now look here, fucker…" I said, narrowing my eyes, "That's a conversation for another day." Jolteon simply grinned, as I shifted my eyes towards Nizibel and winked at him.

I took Nizibel's hand once more, and walked powerfully towards the edge of the forest. The cool air calmed the three of us down, as we followed the path out of the trees. We came to a massive clearing, where a path led wildly down the hill to the east into Violet City. The blazing dusk sun cast a heavy shadow over the town from behind us, highlighting our figures on the hill. Nizibel removed her blindfold, and gasped at the scene.

"It's like a postcard, isn't it?" I mentioned.

"It is! It's beautiful!" She said, removing a camera from her pack and taking a picture. As she put the camera back, the two fellows from before – Kit, and the one with snowy-white hair, emerged from the forest behind us.

"Hey, it's you. The tech." Kit said, "What was your name again?"

"Estel Blackheart. And this is my traveling companion," I began,

"Nizibel Evans." She finished, smiling broadly.

"I hope I get to see you work sometime, Blackheart. You seem like an alright guy." Kit said. "My name's Kit. Surname Blace." He motioned to his friend, who was several inches shorter than him, at around 6' 1". He stood only an inch or so above me. "This is Shiro. We've known each other for a long time, although he doesn't talk much..."

"That's Toshiro Ryujin. Age 18." Shiro stated. Kit appeared rather disgruntled that he was interrupted.

"You don't need to state your age all the fucking time, cockfag." Kit said, slightly angrily.

"I state my age because I choose to." Shiro said, calmly.

"It's not even an age worth goddamn mentioning. It's like reminding people that you can't drive or some shit like that." Kit replied.

"You can't drink, what's your point?" Shiro rebutted.

Kit was visibly becoming angry. "I'm fucking 20, which is probably older than fucking everyone here." He said, pushing the subject. "That also makes me fucking older than you, which means I know a hell of a lot better."

Shiro remained perfectly calm. He shrugged, and looked the other way.

Kit breathed a few time, then shook his head, "Fuck it, do whatever the hell you want." He then sighed, and calmed down.

"We were actually hoping for a battle with you, Blackheart." Kit finally said. "Shiro seems to think that Jolteon and Flareon of yours are more powerful than meets the eye." He paused, looking at the expressionless Shiro. "When Shiro makes a statement like that, it's very rare. So, I tend to listen."

I looked at Nizibel, who then looked back at the two. "What about a double battle? I could use something like that."

I suddenly got fired up. "That's a fucking amazing idea, I'm game."

The two seemed somewhat taken aback. They looked at each other, then Kit said, "Alright. I'll take the right side." Shiro looked at me and smiled. "May the best team win."

I released Flareon from her ball while the others were warming up. I crouched down closely, and asked with Jolteon close by, "Do you have an egg to lay?" Flareon looked at the ground, sat in a poised position, and closed her eyes. She then looked at me and shook her head. Jolteon then put his ear to her belly, listening closely. "She doesn't appear to be pregnant." He said, slightly disappointed. I looked back at Flareon, who glowed dimly in the twilight hour. "You want to battle?" I asked her directly, which she aggressively responded, eager to enter the fight. She ran to the field, ready to take on the opponents.

"Fuck yea, we're ready to go!" Kit announced, throwing a plain ball onto the field. The familiar Charizard was summoned, rearing his head with a mighty roar.

Shiro likewise released a Dragonair from its encapsulation, and Nizibel sent a Misdreavous. I walked to the field, standing behind Flareon, with Jolteon sitting calmly by my side.

"It's a 2 versus 2 match, no substitutes!" I shouted, as everyone agreed.

"Alright! Charizard! Use Fly against the Misdreavous!" Kit shouted hastily to open the fight.

"Missy! Confuse Ray!" Nizibel commanded as the Ghost-type launched a faint purple beam at the Charizard. The fire-type began flying in an awkward pattern.

"Charizard, shake it off and swoop down!" The Charizard's attack failed, bringing it crashing down onto the field.

In the commotion, I shouted, "Flareon! Open with Flamethrower!" As Flareon's mouth gaped and its throat began to glow, Charizard found its way to its feet. Still confused, Kit ordered it to intercept the flame. It pushed its wing into the way, as a great belch of searing fire erupted from Flareon. The thin fabric of the wing barely held against the mighty attack, but Charizard retracted the wing successfully.

However, the Misdreavous was busy charging a Shadow Ball, which landed a critical hit, nailing the Charizard squarely in the chest. It flew from the field, barely catching itself as Dragonair barreled towards Flareon for a powerful Slam. Flareon nimbly dodged, evading damage.

"Flareon! Use flamethrower straight down!" I shouted, as the Charizard regained its balance in the air, only to be trapped in the Misdreavous' Night Shade. The Flareon launched high into the air, lighting up the forest in glorious orange and yellow, the Dragonair following it closely.

"Stop the flamethrower!" I shouted, as Flareon's flame was extinguished. The Charizard suddenly plummeted past her, and Missy used Psychic by Nizibel's command to fling the Charizard against a nearby tree before hitting the ground, knocking it out.

By my own command, the Dragonair's neck was bitten, which Flareon held onto dearly. Without balance, the two began to soar towards the ground, as I yelled to them, "Flareon! Overheat!" Flareon began glowing with fiery passion, but Shiro suddenly intervened, "Dragonair, use Twister." The dragon began twisting violently, and Flareon was unable to hold on. The two separated, as a powerful explosion of heat and fire emitted from Flareon. The sheer power of the attack singed the top of a few trees nearby, and delivered a small blow to Dragonair. The dragon floated to the ground before its master, as Flareon slowed its fall with another flamethrower.

"Flareon! Blast Burn!" I shouted, and Shiro's Dragonair reacted to its master's command with Safeguard. The immense blast of fire torched the air, burning the grass and singing the ground as it traveled. It contacted the shield, and fizzled. We stared each other down. Nizibel shook hands with Kit, meanwhile recalling her MisdreaThey each looked at our combatants, as Kit asked her about the Flareon.

"It's amazing, isn't it? Estel has some kind of connection to his Eevees. He's able to teach them abilities they wouldn't know in either the wild or another trainer's hands." She explained.

"I've never seen any overheat, even performed by a Torkoal, that amassed that much power. It's utterly amazing… I see now what Shiro saw." Kit said, watching back-and-forth exchanges of fire and dragon attacks.

"Dragonair! Aqua Tail!" Shiro said. "Flareon! Raise your body temperature!" The Flareon glowed brightly, and the tail coated in water crashed into her, causing a pillar of steam. When the fog cleared, both Pokémon stood, neither harmed.

"How hot is that Flareon's body, to be able to shrug off Shiro's Water attack?" Kit asked, pointing at the battle, puzzled.

"Normally, she operates at around 3,600 degrees Fahrenheit. Just then, I imagine she broke 7,000 degrees. Estel trained her specifically to be able to shrug off weak water attacks that don't come from water-type Pokémon. His Flareon is very powerful in that respect, because the only type advantage against it is an actual water-type using a water-type attack." Nizibel explained proudly.

"That's utterly… no, it's absolutely fucking amazing." Kit said, astonished. "Shiro's specialty is Ice-type. He planned on using his Lapras at first, but decided not to, in favor of a fair fight. I expect now, that he should have." The fight raged on before them, well after the moon had come up. The ball of light around us was caused by the fiery glow of my Flareon, whom appeared a hot coal in the night.

The dragon readied another slam. "Flareon. Stand your ground." I instructed, as she braced her body against the ground. Her body glowed intensely, as the tail of the Dragonair swooped down closer. "Now, Flareon! Overheat!" Shiro's eyes grew wide, as he _shouted_, after simply speaking his commands throughout the fight, "Dragonair! STOP!" Kit looked over, shocked. The command was useless, however, the Dragonair's momentum continued.

We stood over the crater. Our hands were clasped together, as broad smiles swept our faces. "That was an excellent battle. I expect another one soon," I told Shiro, "Too bad it was a draw." He let go, calling back the fainted dragon, as an unconscious Flareon retreated to her ball. Shiro began to walk away, towards the mountains with Kit. He suddenly stopped, turned, and said, "No. You won this fight." He paused, looking at the moon high overhead. "You displayed masterful use of your skills and patience, along with an expertly trained Flareon. I'd be almost afraid to battle your Jolteon there." He turned to look at me, smiling.

"Maybe you will one day." I stated to him.

"If I do, it will be to enjoy the presence of a Pokémon I'll never beat." Shiro admitted, with Kit shaking his head side-to-side.

Nizibel smiled warmly as she waved to them.

"They seem like a balance of each other, don't they?" Nizibel said, softly.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"One is quiet and recognizes a challenge, while the other is loud and aggressive." She said. "But, Kit is a good trainer; he tried his best to protect his friend, that's all that really matters."

She looked at the moon as I began down the trail. "They're both strong – Like you."

I suddenly stopped, and looked at her.

"You're still as strong as you used to be. Maybe stronger." She said, turning her gaze to me.

"You stepped and told your mom you loved her in her dream. Then, you stepped up to take care of your little sister. Today, you stepped up to take care of me." She said. My heart leaped, as I gazed towards the stars.

"I could only hope to have someone like you by my side for the rest of my life." Nizibel said, sincerity exploding in her voice.

"She's right, you know. You're a very protective person." Jolteon said. "You made sure that Flareon wasn't pregnant before battling with her, even though you didn't approve of a possible child." He looked to the ground. "If I had been in your shoes, I would've been much more careless. I may have hurt the baby in my thoughtlessness."

I grinned. "As daylight dies, my dreams go with it." Both of them trotted behind me, as I walked ahead. "Because I know that they'll be rising again, renewed with the dawn." I stated, "So I'll fight my hardest for daylight. When I stand a paragon for you as well, in the dawn," I said as we entered Violet City's outskirts, the city lights surrounded us as though fireflies to a lantern of hope, "My work has only started."

_Journal Entry #3, Clear, March 27__th__, 1052._

_Pokemology – Route 30 is almost predominately forest. The bug population has exploded, primarily consisting of Weedle and Caterpie. Their evolutions, Kakuna and Metapod, are also found here. The two hives for Beedrill and Butterfree are now located on a reserve, out of Trainer's reach. I also spotted a few Heracross and Spinarak among the bug populous. Apom, Hoothoot, Pidgey, and Pidgeotto acted as the predatory Pokémon, but were nearly wiped out due to an endangerment of the bug population in the area, thus were few. Pidgey have returned in vast numbers. I discovered pockets of Hoothoot sleeping during the day cycle. It appears that flying Pokémon have found their way back first._

_Herbology – Route 30 contains a single berry orchard belonging to a Resident of Cherrygrove._

_We encountered a problem pertaining to the population of the Bug Pokémon in the forest. A pair of rangers was summoned by Mr. Pokémon to resolve the issue, along with the aid of myself and several other trainers. We created a Reserve to keep the population in check while Trainers had free range on any Pokémon not in the Reserve. Two of the trainers that aided in the construction were Kit Blace and "Shiro" Ryujin, whom we met outside the forest. They were strong combatants, and admitted to defeat after Nizibel defeated Kit, and Shiro and I ended in draw._

_Dear Laine,_

_ I hope this letter finds you well. We've been moving ahead slowly because events in the world are catching up quickly. However, the primary reason for this letter:_

_ I found myself in a dream I can't define as good or bad last night. I found you crying, which I will admit tore at my heart. Please, don't cry. My heartbeat is still here, and I'll always be by your side. I want you to know that I've found my resolve. My fear is that you don't understand why I wanted to do this. To be frank, I didn't either until today. I want to protect you, as I always have. Because of that, I have found reason to step up and create hope. Nizibel told me that I was strong when Mama dreamt about us in her coma. I don't think that's true. I was simply a boy who wanted his mom back. She dreamt that I was strong because she believed that truth. Now, I understand why and thank her for that. However, baby sister, it's your turn. End a chapter of your life and start anew, turn the page and realize your strength. As daylight dies, my dreams go with it. But, I know that they will be renewed with the dawn. For that, I will fight my hardest until the daylight comes. When I stand as a paragon for you in the dawn, my work has only begun._

_I will love you always,_

_Estel_


	3. Chapter 3

**3: When I'm Done Dreaming**

My mind fluttered in and out of existence. The room exploded with meaningless words, irrelevant to itself in silent isolation. It spoke to me under the veil of endless walls, stretching to the heavens to embrace the ceiling. Warped and distraught, its words entered my slumber and commanded me to dream. I dreamt of a vast cloud, whose comfort knew no bounds. Under a spell of shroud and bleeding helplessness, I enjoyed the feeling of imprisonment. I was a prisoner of my own dreams, caught and unregretful in accepting defeat. There I lie in comfort, slowly being swallowed by the room's luminescent glow in the early afternoon.

I suddenly felt compulsive, as though an unforeseen force drug me from the dream, pulling my body upwards with a heavy hand. I wished to contend its power, but suddenly felt no need. My body convulsed and throbbed, fresh from the subconscious of a mind only just becoming mine again. The air was thin and cool, but rather than the air appearing light, I simply felt heavy. Gravity took effect, and slumped my head downward, as my eyes refused to open. Then, physics took a firm grasp of my eye sockets, disturbing their complexion with downward motion. My hand wrapped its warm flesh about my forehead, discovering cool skin; it then traveled across a field of cropped hair.

I pulled heavily, each muscle located in my body tightened and ripped, causing bones to emit a dull, sickening pop from their cores. As though horribly taunting a violin, a fierce noise came from my lungs, as though an echo from a wide drain pipe. I finally forced and pulled at the thin coverings over my vision, examining the colors and shapes enveloping my existence. Fog slowly revived to blur, and blur slowly cleared into wobble, and wobble finally stilled into focus. The small room was richly decorated, its walls of antique white, and its moulding of mahogany. The powerful textures embroidered into the wood resembled Victorian handiwork, which lead wildly down to a hardwood floor, framing the dull red carpeting on which the bed sat. The ceiling exposed devilish white, whose red tint matched the hope of becoming antique one day. The potent colors mixed and clashed onto the light fixture's pronunciation, which encircled it with daringly exquisite carvings taking place in perfect pattern about it. A massive beam of afternoon sun poured in the large, white window behind me as I leaned over the side of the sturdy Oak-and-brass bed. Its size was that of queen, equal to that of its twin, falling between me and the window.

The twin bed's sheets were ruffled and disturbed, painted with a familiar night gown atop them. It was strewn aside, with a white lacy piece of undergarment perched, seemingly purposefully, next to it. The room was void of life, save for myself. I fell back to my studies of the floor. The edge fading from wood forth unto carpet was well made; no variation of height was present in the transition, and the bristles in the carpet did not exceed the edge of the wood. The bottom of the wall was gloriously waxed; the mahogany shimmering in all its beauty. Above it, the wall began a tremendous hike to the ceiling, producing a belittling effect on the person viewing. My body suddenly rose, escalating the wall with promise of reaching the top, but stopped at six even feet above the floor. The floor then carried me wholly, pushing one foot in front of the other, towards the bathroom, where I found myself staring blankly into the mirror. The dark circles beneath my eyes indicated a hardship, whereas the ache in my muscles indicated weariness.

I stared for some time, but then stooped to twist the shower's knobs, activating the shower head. Water began to spring forth, cold at first. The room began to steam, its boundaries becoming vague and gray with the warm water. The shower's warmth washed over me, body and soul. I allowed its caress to alleviate through the contours in my face.

"As daylight dies, my dreams go with it. Because I know that they'll be rising again, renewed with the dawn." I stated, "So I'll fight my hardest for daylight. When I stand a paragon for you as well, in the dawn … My work has only started."

"That's rather profound. You should write that down!" Nizibel said, astonished.

"Why? If I write it down, the words will be meaningless. As soon as they're forgotten, the book will be burned. Perhaps not physically, but emotionally." I said, looking straight ahead.

"I don't think I follow, if you don't write it down, how will you remember what you said?" Jolteon asked.

"Because that statement came from my heart; it's what I truly believe and abide by." I started, both listening carefully as the night crept around us. The streets were alive with silent motion, the people floating about in cautious temperament. "If I am correct that it came from the heart, it will then speak to yours, meaning you'll never forget it. You'll always have it when you need it, because it will always be with you." I said, turning to look Nizibel in the eye. She blushed and looked away from my smile, unable to return the glance.

"Either way, we're here." I said, motioning to the building ahead of us.

"Great!" Nizibel said, looking at the hotel. She suddenly grew incredibly weary, staring at the shamble. "This… place… Wow." She said. The hotel's building required incredible amounts of repair: The paint chipped away with each gentle breeze, the roof appears in total disrepair, and has remained as such for a great deal of time. The shutters barely hung on by a single hinge, and the remainder of the building would enjoy seeing a condition so luxurious. "You aren't seriously about to make a lady stay here… I'd need three tetanus shots and an antidote by morning!" She exclaimed.

Jolteon and I looked at her through rather puzzled expressions. "What's wrong with this place?" Jolteon asked. Nizibel's complexion became that of annoyance.

"It's a fucking shithole." She said, plainly.

"That may be, but it's a _shithole_ with _potential_." I rebutted, without skipping a beat.

"What kind of …_potential_?" Nizibel asked, squinting and suspicious.

"I don't think I follow." I said, claiming ignorance blatantly after realizing the error of my word choice.

"I think he means that it may be a shithole, but it's the only shithole in our budget." Jolteon butted in.

"Is it necessary to stand there and call my hotel a shithole a hundred times?" A small, elder man said from the doorway.

"Why yes it is, I'm proving a point." I said to the man, in a satirical tone.

"Oh? And what might that _possibly _be?" He questioned, listening intently.

"That we have utter fucking mastery over the English language." I stated, pushing my chest out proudly.

The man appeared to be less than amused. He stared me down, as Nizibel and Jolteon backed down from the sarcastic comment that just passed my lips. The man glared at me through glassy eyes, but he suddenly burst into laughter.

"Is that so? You must be Blackheart, then. Please, do come in." He said, showing us into the door.

I looked at Nizibel and motioned for the door. "Princess Tits?"

She immediately dropped her face in disgust, pushing her tongue past her lips as she followed the man inside. Jolteon chuckled as we crossed looks.

"You laugh at me again and dammit to hell, I'll castrate you." I said, calmly.

"Fucking try it." Jolteon said, calmly grinning.

The following morning brought several new events. Exploring the town, we discovered a small dress shop. The door tugged at a small silver bell, ringing clearly into the shop's interior. The entire room was embroidered in jewels and brightly adorned walls. Various stands each and all carried an exquisite dress, which a small handful of people browsed at leisure. Calming piano score played overhead from small inlets in the false ceiling. Jolteon and I followed Nizibel to the counter as my boots clopped against the tile walkway, bordered on either side by carpet sales zones. At the counter was a very refined lady, with thick rectangular glasses that sat on a heavily makeup-driven nose, wrinkled from age. Her lips were drawn and pursed, very thin and layered in thick lipstick. Some part of me wanted to say aloud, "Jesus Christ, if the fire alarm goes off, I'm hiding behind the walking mannequin over here." Unfortunately, I felt that the situation would end badly.

Suddenly, Jolteon said directly to me in a hushed voice as we approached the counter, "Jesus Christ, if the fire alarm goes off, I'm hiding behind the walking mannequin over here." I chuckled violently, attempting to sustain a straight face. "I mean, seriously… She's got more shit on her face than this room has paint." My chest convulsed, which I immediately stopped, putting on my best poker face when the posh lady looked up from her sewing.

"May I help you, young lady?" The posh woman asked. It seemed that her face was more a plastic coating that could not change expression whatsoever.

Nizibel adjusted the frameless spectacles sitting on her freckled nose. "I was hoping for a sun dress, something breezy to wear for the coming summer."

The woman rose from her stool, picking up a small catalogue. Smiling (which seemed an impossibility in the making); she pointed to a page with fabric inserts.

"We cater to many styles of summer dresses. I assume this is for you?" The woman said, examining Nizibel's figure.

"Nope, it's for me." Jolteon said, looking up and smiling broadly.

"Your friends are …Charming." The woman said, adjusting her glasses at Jolteon.

"I thought it was funny." I said.

The lady cleared her throat, looking back to the catalogue.

"Jolteon. Be respectful." I said to him. After a pause, I continued, "At least let her measure you first."

"Dammit, Estel just shut up, _please_." Nizibel said directly, her face becoming red.

I threw my hands up in surrender, quickly apologizing with "Alright, I'll be good." Jolteon snickered quirkily, but Nizibel's glare quickly interrupted him. "Yeah, sure. I'll be good, too." Jolts apologized, defeated.

Nizibel pushed her spectacles up her nose to contact the bridge to her forehead, magnifying her blue irises. She turned back to the dressmaker, apologizing. She pointed at several fabrics and designs, some floral, some very eloquent and ladylike.

"What about this design, it looks like's designed for slimmer shoulders, like mine." Nizibel said, pointing to a light blue dress with white frills.

"That's where the challenge comes with you – Your shoulders are slim and thrown back, but your chest is very large." The dressmaker pointed at several parts of a mannequin. Jolteon snoozed quietly at the base of the counter, as I indulged in a newspaper. I looked above the paper briefly, but then drove back into it. I sat to Nizibel's right, cluttered among a quaint snow-white sofa and armchair set, my legs crossed exorbitantly before a contemporary glass coffee table.

"Go ahead. Say it." Nizibel said, sighing.

"Say what?" I said, from behind the newspaper.

"I know you want to make a comment about what she just said." Nizibel stated, the posh lady pulling several fabrics from a shelf.

"I don't have to. The joke's there and in fact, so incredibly obvious, that I don't even _have_ to say it." I said, grinning. I studied over a curious topic in the comics, and gave no attention to the glare mere moments from burning a hole into the newspaper. "I'm very aware that you wear a 38DD, so why would I make more comment than calling you Tits, like I always do?"

"Hold on. How do you know that?" Nizibel said, slightly surprised.

The news suddenly folded over its own gossamer material. My eyebrows were shifted and convoluted in a sense of misunderstanding. "Bitch, are you retarded? How many of your bras have I held over the past few days?"

The dressmaking lady suddenly looked up and widened her eyes, looking shocked at Nizibel. "Laundry," she directed at the dressmaker, shrugging. The lady then rolled her eyes about their sockets, slowly returning to work. The newspaper suddenly erected itself to full standing.

I poured over the local news, reading through the section multiple times before coming to examine a web page, displayed upon my laptop. Granting view to the time, I made note of the third hour of patience being pulled from me. I yawned heavily, peering towards the door leading to the dressing rooms, finding no new movement. Jolteon stirred from his new location, which fell next to me on the rather comfortable sofa, but quickly fell back to sleep. I puckered my bottom lip, examining several high end computer parts for sale. The front windows combated for space within the shop between powerful beams of white LED lights, and the sun's warm afternoon glow. Each click of my mouse was heard echoing throughout the small shop, signaling that time indeed still passed. People would stop and stare into the window at times, others customers would enter, purchase something, then leave.

I found myself caught between reading comic strips and computer part shopping. Jolteon had revived from his nap, reading information beside me.

"I'd love to have the u7 – 990X Hex Core." I said, looking through specifications.

"You'd never afford it; $1200 for a hex core? Granted, it's from Sliph Co., so I bet the bench is somewhere in the 10,000 range, the Gullitown architecture is very powerful – But for the money, shouldn't we go with the…" Jolteon started.

I ended his sentence, "One of the new REC GX - 8150 8-cores? My thoughts exactly. Drop $270 on it, and it'll bench just over 8,000. The Zambei core has utterly amazing efficiency."

"Comparatively, you'd think that Sliph Co. would try to compete a little more." Jolteon said, reading the comparison.

"Yeah, but they're badasses, and the trouble is – they know it, so they use it to their advantage and sell their name more than the CPU. Also, you can't compete with what is just flat out _a better processor_. The Rockets may have a checkered past, but they know their way around an efficient architecture." I said, grinning. "But when it comes to graphics," I began.

"You won't settle for less than DevCo." Jolteon stated.

"Exactly. DevCo makes more powerful, more reliable cards. REC has the market cornered for medium-powered, low cost cards. But DevCo makes cards without sacrifice – and they don't generally cost much more." I said, clicking a few more links.

"But the problem is, finding a motherboard with an RE3 socket and a DevCo northbridge. Even when you do, it'll be fairly expensive, and buying just a basic motherboard runs the risk of firmware compatibility issues. The really annoying part is finding a motherboard that doesn't specify additional technologies." Jolteon stirred around, pushing his head under my arm for a better view of the screen. I clicked a new link, followed by his voice echoing, "See, $120 for what you're looking for."

I rubbed the goatee shrouding my chin. "Bloody hell. But, the good news is, this one's made by a sister company of DevCo, so you know the saudering will be high quality, and heat dissipation will be absolutely wonderful."

Jolteon looked about the page, studying various items highlighted about it. Suddenly, Nizibel's voice echoed from the rear of the store. At the queue, I closed the laptop and slid it down into my bag, which was then thrown over my shoulder. Nizibel exited the door, stepping into the light in an airy dress, which clung around her shoulders with wide straps, covering her breasts with light suede; allowing no cleavage to peek over the top. The dress fell down to her knees, pronouncing her figure. It was of fine linen, dyed a light hue of blue embroidered at the bottom rim with white lace. The suede near the top was snow white, matching the lacy rim. Her legs stretched from beneath the dress, finally truncating into light blue cloth sandals, elevated at the heel by cork wedge underneath. As she walked, her body bounced.

She came into the light, twirled once, looking all about the exquisite dress. I stretched heavily, yawning in the process of Jolteon pushing his paws well out in front of him. Nizibel came to a stop, pulling a strap into place. "What do you think?" She said, patting the lower part of the dress.

"I'm a guy. To me, it looks like every other dress." I said, pulling at my arms. She gave me a glance that caused her glasses to fall down her face. She pushed them back into place as I realized my error, and correcting it with, "I mean, it looks great, you're very cute."

She perked up, "Thank you!" Jolteon landed on the floor, and trod his way to the dress, placing a paw on it and rubbing downward. "It's very soft. I bet it's also very comfortable." He said, examining the material.

"It's designed to be. That's what a sundress is for." The lady said, putting a measuring tape on the counter. She punched several keys on the register.

Nizibel padded several places on the dress, including her breasts. "She made this one just for me, I'm very happy with it."

"Miss Evans, I have your ticket ready." Nizibel rifled through her purse, removing a billfold. She then walked to the counter and poured over a series of numbers with the dressmaker. She unclipped her billfold and pulled out several bills. I stared at her from afar, admiring the subtle features highlighted by the outfit. She suddenly bounded towards me, the dress fluttering as she walked.

"Estel, I'm a little short, would you mind making the difference?" She asked politely.

I breathed in, looking at her in slight distaste, "How much do you need?" I asked.

"Only three hundred." She said, calmly.

My jaw suddenly dropped, hanging loosely in the air. I looked at Jolteon, who returned the glance. His jaw appeared in exact mirror of my own. "How much was it to begin with?" I asked, in awe.

"The whole thing came to $715.76, I have it, but I don't want to blow everything at once." She said, looking through the wallet in her hands.

My eyes suddenly sharpened. "Goddamn, woman. You better be glad I like you." I said, turning for the door. "Jolteon, stay here. I'm going to go find an ATM."

"There's one right up the road. Turn left out the door and head to the corner." The lady said from the counter. I waved to her in response. I opened the door, but overheard Jolteon and Nizibel as the door shut: "Do you think he's mad at me?" A feminine voice asked quietly. "Nah, he wouldn't have left me here if he was mad." Jolteon replied.

In the street, I walked speedily with my hands shoved into my pockets. My eyes stayed fixed on the corner ahead, as people bustled around me. Various vehicles traversed the road, honking and humming with the sound of powerful engines motoring them along. The streets were lined with lights, which cast powerful shadows in the afternoon sun. It was a balmy 78 Fahrenheit, and a cool breeze ruffled the airy short sleeve shirt I dawned. Its deep green hue absorbed the sunlight, warming my back. A group of children from the local school filed around me, laughing and talking about Pokémon as I came to the corner. The ATM sat firmly in place before the Johto National Bank, where my account held. I activated the machine, pushing my blue card into the slot. I drew and counted 15 $20 bills, depicting the President's portrait. I then received a receipt from the machine, and reviewed its printing in my path back to the small shop. Same as before, faceless people and Pokémon filed around me as I made my way back.

I read through the receipt, calculating within the confines of my mind how much I need to spend at the hotel in order to stay within budget. As I put my hand on the door's aluminum frame to pull it open and hear the familiar silver bell, I stopped dead in my tracks. Nizibel saw me from inside and hurried to the door. She then opened the door, thanking me multiple times. I never took my eyes away from the receipt as I pulled the small wad of money from my pocket and stuffed it down the front of her dress, stating, "Here, just fucking take it – I need to go to the bank…"

I quickly turned and hurried up the street once more, Jolteon bounding out the door, brushing past Nizibel's bare leg and catching up to me. Nizibel removed the wad of $20 bills from between her breasts, counting out the money, but appearing more concerned as to the nature of my sudden alarm.

"What's up? Is something wrong?" Jolteon asked, keeping pace with me as I dodged through various people, a dead run upon the concrete.

"No, if what …happened that I …think what …happened (Sorry, excuse me) …Something went …fucking amazingly …_right_." I replied, nearly running on the wall. People stopped and looked back at me, confused as to my hurry. I swung open the door to the Bank, accessing the lobby, out of breath. A single teller was open, which I ran towards. I slammed my hands down on the solid wood counter, knocking the pen from the platform. I breathed in and out hard, from the intense sprint I had accomplished.

"May I … Help … You?" The male teller asked, struck in suspense.

"I need…" I breathed hard, fogging the glass slightly, "Detailed information on the last deposit made to my account."

Jolteon suddenly cocked his eyebrows. "Deposit?" He asked, "When was the last time you made a deposit?"

"There's no way… I made it." I said, panting.

The teller suddenly grew shocked and amazed. "I see why you're out of breath, the last deposit… Was made this morning," He said, typing and clicking, "I'm printing off the electronic transfer slip and statement information."

He handed the papers under the glass, sliding them across atop the waxed wood surface. I poured over them, Jolteon pulling himself up using his front paws to look for himself.

"Holy FUCKSHIT!" Jolteon shouted into the room, eyes widening with every passing moment. Every other teller and patron, as well as every customer and employee in an office around us looked as us intensely, but I didn't care. The slip read plainly, "Pokémon Ranger Corps. Pay to the Order of Estel Blackheart, $1,250,000." The statement information jumped from just over enough to pay for food and living to well more than enough to buy a new house, car, and every luxury money could buy.

I stared at the number for some time, which added 3 digits to my previous balance. I suddenly slumped to the floor, as several people rushed over to me. Jolteon followed the example posthaste, his tongue hanging apathetically from his jaw.

"I've never been happier in my fucking life." I said, as Jolteon heartily laughed, and I sat up. The people around me scratched their heads, confused.

The phone connection's video examined a gruff old man wearing camouflage, with a younger, well-shaven man over his shoulder.

Stern chuckled as I told him the story, but followed the monologue with, "We at the Pokémon Rangers stand behind your fee. We feel that had you not come along when you did, the forest would still be in shambles. Besides that, it's difficult to find someone with your skills willing to perform such a generous task without wanting compensation more than Thanks."

McCallihan included, "After viewing our report, the Ranger-General was so impressed, he cleared the funds without a moment's hesitation. He also wanted us to tell you that you're more than welcome in our ranks, anytime, anywhere."

I smiled broadly, but the smile faded as I stared at the laptop's glossy screen. "But that does pose a problem." I said, looking down.

The two on the other side suddenly faded into worry. They looked at each other, then McCallihan asked politely, "What might that be?"

I looked at them while growing a sarcastic grin, unzipping from the left of my face, followed closely by, "I have no idea where to spend it all."

The two rangers then burst into laughter, as I chuckled. We said our farewells, as the screen went black, then phased to the desktop. The familiar program popped up once more, and the mouse landed on a picture of Laine and her Nidorina. A cartoon Bulbasaur wearing a headset danced around the screen as the connection was being processed.

The ringing noise took place multiple times. "It's not like her to not answer." Jolteon said, worried.

"You're right." I said, closing the window. "She's probably at Zeb's, like usual. She probably needs a friend right now; Nidorina is the only company she has around the house."

Jolteon sat calmly next to me at the exquisite hotel's table in the corner of our room. Outside the window, three stories below, the street was ablaze under the evening sun. I looked outside, scanning the skies. "I wonder what happened to all that rain they called for?"

Jolteon peered outside, towards the sky. "Dunno. We haven't had a draught this heavy for some time; years at least. The weather station must be going for a record." Jolteon said, amused.

A door opened on the far side of the room, allowing steam to roll from magnificent marble surfaces within. Nizibel, wrapped in towels, stepped out. She sat on the bed, crossing her legs. She looked at me, "That was the most wonderful bath I'll ever take." Her eyes were glazed and lazy in nature.

"I'm glad you liked it." I said, lifting a scotch glass filled with a red fluid. The ice lightly tapped the crystal clear container, readjusting in its journey to my lips. I took a small sip, swallowed, and replaced the glass on the cork, which was emblazed into a silver ring, holding it steadily in place in the oasis of crystal tabletop. The floor beneath was alive with color, splashes of geometric shapes and sizes were splayed across the texture of the carpet. One leg thrown over the other, I sat in one of the matching silvered rod iron chairs, complimented by white plush cushioning, and Jolteon perched sitting in another to my right. The style was very high class, and the construction was top notch; comfortable as an armchair, but efficient as a dining chair.

Nizibel shook her head, making a disgusted sound as the glass came to a halt on the table's built-in coaster. "How can you drink that shit?" She said, tightening the towel around her body.

"I find it rather tasteful, and at least here I can have the kind I want and not some gutterwash." I said, pouring more of the reddish liquid into the glass, afterward replacing the bottle into the center of the table on a roundabout. "They've got all kinds of high quality liquors here, even some wine underneath the table." I motioned to a rack built into the legs of the table, where several expensive and aged wines sat.

"Wine I can handle, as long as it's sweet. But whiskey? Ew, no." Nizibel said, pulling a pair of undergarments underneath the towel. She then stood, picking up a long, red opaque shirt from the bedside. She pulled the collar around the towel wrapped about her head, and the shirt draped to her knees, where the towel fell from beneath it. I pulled the glass up to my lips again, but then halted in putting it down.

"Here," I said, holding out the glass, "Try it. It's not normal whiskey; it has more of a tangy-smooth taste to it." Nizibel looked at it, displeased.

"That's not happening. I tried that shit at your house, what was it? John Daniels?" She said, turning the other way.

"This isn't JD. Daniels makes more rough-and-tumble whiskey, meant to be strong and full-bodied. This is Crown Monarch, a much more rich and well-aged whiskey." I said, shaking the glass around, disturbing the ice cubes floating in the fluid.

"It really is a more gentlemanly drink, much more so than what you tried," Jolteon added.

"Still not happening." Nizibel rebutted, as she pulled a few things from her backpack. She sat on the bed with a small mirror on the nightstand, and began to brush her newly revealed hair.

"I put you up for the night like a true lady should be, I buy you a god-awfully expensive dress, and not to mention it was my money that paid for the _most wonderful bath you'll ever take_. Now, all I ask is that you try this and you won't do it. I see how you are." I said, raising an eyebrow, and taking a sip from the glass.

"FINE!" She said, putting the brush down. Her bare feet tread across the luxurious flooring, and she stopped short of the table, taking the glass from my hands. She then cautiously smelled the glass, looking at me suspiciously.

"I guarantee it's not poisoned," Jolteon said pointedly.

She then scowled at the drink, but finally put the glass to her lips and allowed the potent red fluid to enter her mouth. She swallowed hard, but squinted and coughed with the most incredibly pained expression she's ever worn. I removed the glass from her convulsing hand, then took an immense swallow from the glass, and set it down with an "Ahh!" as though I found the drink refreshing.

"You're…" she coughed a few more times, between her intensely hoarse voice, "Inhuman." She finally sat down, patting her ribcage. She then pushed her tongue out repeatedly, rubbing the fiery taste from it with her teeth while the pained expression was replaced with one of utter disgust. She pulled a red wine from beneath the table, and pulled a wine glass from the center of the table. She then released the sweet crimson silk into the glass, filling it part of the way.

After ingesting part of the glass, she then breathed hard. "I knew I shouldn't have fucking drunk it," She said, shaking her head.

"Lightweight." I said, taking another drink from the short glass near me. "There's most likely a liquor here you'll enjoy." I said, turning the roundabout in the center of the table.

"If there is, it sure as hell won't be whiskey of any kind." She said, removing more liquid from her glass.

"I bet you'd like a mixed drink, Laine usually prefers them to straight booze." Jolteon said, rubbing a paw on his ear.

"That reminds me; didn't you say the drinking age got lowered again?" Nizibel said, examining the opaque wine.

"Yeah, it's 16 now, but you need to have someone over 18 with you." I said, rolling my neck around, with dull pops emitting from the base of my head. "Eighteen has been the legal drinking age for quite a while, probably since the war."

Nizibel polished the wine, finally washing away the taste of my whiskey. "I am glad that you received that money." She said, gazing into the empty glass.

"Who ever said _I _received it?" I said, finishing off my own drink. Nizibel suddenly cocked her eyebrows, diverting her eyes towards mine.

"He would have never gotten that money if it wasn't for you. He wanted to protect you so badly that he rewired an entire mainframe in record time." Jolteon said, his eyes glistening against the soft glow of the high ceiling's chandelier.

"No, that's not true. I was just being a weakling, and collapsed…" She said, looking down.

"No person can hide from themselves. Only dreamers believe this is possible." Nizibel and Jolteon exchanged looks then listened intently.

"In my dreams, it's just me. No one around, not a soul. Here, I can't see myself anywhere. But that why it's a dream, it's not reality. In reality, I see reflections of myself everywhere – in shop windows, in mirrors, in water. But less literally, I see myself in Jolteon, Laine, and even you, Nizibel. When I can't see myself and attempt to hide, you always remind me of what I can't see. That's why _I_ may hold the money, but it's _ours_ to spend." The room became silent for a short time.

Nizibel broke the silence with the sound of her chair inhaling air as she stood, walked to me, and put her arms around my abdomen. She buried her face into the material of my shirt, as "Thank you" crossed her lips. I then felt a warm sensation from her eyes, and the sensation flowed downward, absorbing into the cloth from her cheeks.

_Journal Entry #3, Partly Cloudy, March 28__th__, 1052._

_Pokemology – Violet City is populated by very few wild Pokémon, many if not all unreachable by natural standards; the Pokémon here are generally scared into hiding by heavy human activity. The city is, however, populated densely by civilized Pokémon. Some belonged to trainers, others performed jobs and tasks assigned them to best suit their abilities._

_Herbology – Violet City contains no noteworthy fauna._

_We arrived in Violet City and have decided to stay for some time. I expect that we shall enjoy ourselves for a week, and then set back onto the road. People here tend to not notice us, as trainers come from far and wide into Violet in order to face the gym leader. We did not stand out in this respect, and were able to blend into the crowd, regardless of our rural beginnings. Our accent is not much different from the accent found here, as expected, and I doubt we'll find anyone with a much varied tongue for some time. I plan to train intensively with Eevee, as a fight using Jolteon against Falkner would be unsettlingly easy and one-sided. Flareon is my second choice, but I fear that one versus many would have devastating results on Flareon's health. Should she have another Eevee, I would feel much better knowing the child was healthy and stable. _

_I was relieved and excited to receive an enormous check from the Ranger Corps, for my generous services rendered. This hotel's owner is incredibly high class, and took me for a ruffian at first. It amused me greatly when he saw the balance of my bank account, suddenly treating me like royalty. However, to be completely honest, the only payment I wanted from that forest was the solitude of knowing that Nizibel was okay. She's sleeping soundly now, in an incredibly comfortable bed across the room from me. Jolteon is sleeping with her tonight, to allot her some comfort and support. He decided this himself, after seeing her cry tears of joy this evening. _

_I attempted to contact Laine, but to no avail. I worry now for her safety and well-being. Thinking on it, I believe she should have received my letter today, if the mail was running smoothly. She enjoys my handwriting, and I doubt she would pass up the chance to hear from me. In closing, I dearly hope that Zeb is taking good care of her. Zeb, our cousin, is my age. Her family runs the mill of New Bark, in which she makes frequent deliveries by truck to various parts of Johto. Zeb's father, Hillman, is my uncle on my father's side. The family is not affected by the Blackheart curse, bless them. Laine spent much time at their home and I remember the first time they laid eyes to her affliction – but I digress. May tomorrow bring a new dream brought to reality._

The shower's head spewed the glorious warm water in a massaging fashion upon my back. I sighed, but smiled brightly. I stepped out of the shower and pulled a new set of clothes on, glancing to the familiar crystal-top table. Moving around it, I pulled the curtain back in the room of royalty, and glanced to the sky, the sun now hiding from view behind immense gray clouds, which appeared to become pitch black on the horizon. My breath fogged the window, "There's a storm coming."


	4. Chapter 4

**4: The Thunder Rolls**

My reflection gazed into me from the mirror. The darkening skyline crept towards me, extinguishing all color from the landscape and bleaching it into melancholy. A hand slowly slid down the glass, eyes searching through its magnificent surface. The hand stopped, and waited for a moment in the still air, the window's chilled presence radiating into my flesh, marinating my bones in the calm. A sudden but distant roll of thunder passes through me from the distance, ignited by a flash of light above the horizon's thick, oily shell. The city was slowly being engulfed in the dark overhang of the clouds, the seeming endless monstrosity that raised high into the sky, as though a hammer bent on excavating life from the planet's still surface. Violet City: a city of dreamers, people who believe everyone is weak.

I turned and waited, placing my hand upon the crystal-top table. A wine bottle sat next to an empty wine glass, a disturbed chair before them. I pushed the chair in, replacing the wine bottle on the rack below the table. I took the glass and examined it; discovering its contents were completely gone, left without even a drop. I deposited the regal container in a nearby sink, adorned as sophisticatedly as the rest of the room. I then found myself supporting myself on the sink, watching the water rolling over the lip and wall of the glass. I watched each bubble fall to the bottom, then float to the top only to be toppled over the side. The room rattled in the wake of a second rumble of thunder from the distance.

The crystal table supported the binding for that same leather-bound book, which found itself nestled in my bag, safely secured. The radiant glow of the chandelier suddenly softened, and finally extinguished, creating a flickering lamp at the side of my bed the sole surviving light in the extravagant room. Its fickle existence ended, and the room became black and sick with doubt. As my eyes adjusted to the shadows, I followed the silhouette carved into the space across from me that made up Nizibel's softly breathing body and Jolteon's spiky fur. Through the window I saw a portal, whose beauty captivated me. The stars in the sky outside reminded me of those same stars I stared into at home. I enjoy looking into the stars. They remind me of all the people on this planet, everyone shining at their own brightness, everyone shimmering in their own unique color. Alone, we're each and all just a star. Together, we create something beautiful to behold. I don't want to shine the brightest, and I don't want to be an odd color that stands out. I just want to be me, and I want to just… Shine.

The sun suddenly crashed into the room, interrupted every few moments by the shadow of a cloud casually floating by. I awoke to Jolteon trotting around the room, and Nizibel stretching in a wide manner.

"Jesus fuckshit that's bright," I said, squinting at the bright morning sun cascading through the curtain-less window.

Nizibel laughed, "Well, good morning to you, too."

I yawned heavily, throwing my hands above my head.

"Is it breakfast time yet?" Jolteon asked from across the room, his golden fur vibrant in the morning sun's beams, then growing dull and glowing again as a cloud passed over.

"Sure, who's paying?" I said, dropping my hands from the air to the headboard behind me, supporting my cranium. The two looked at each other, then at me. They stared for some time. I stirred my lower lip, realizing my joke didn't go over well. I decided to play it out a little more, have fun with the conversation.

"What the hell are you two looking at?" I stated, eyes lazy, "I ain't got a fuckin' dime." I sat up on the bed, laying my head back as Jolteon sat down across from me, glaring as though attempting to fire laser beams from his eyes.

Nizibel suddenly burst into view, perching herself onto my lap. She then tugged downward on the collar of her shirt, using her arms to press her breasts together. Her cleavage showed through as though in a perfect painting, where her shirt was the frame. "Alright, then what happened to that wad you put in here? You wouldn't mind checking to see if it's still there, would you?" She said, in a very airy voice, looking down at me.

My jaw suddenly slacked, but I composed myself in saying to her, "You spent it on that dress if I'm not mistaken."

She licked her lips, replying, "Then, can I have another?"

Jolteon suddenly stuck his head between us, looking at Nizibel. "Fucking women. They should all be arrested for harboring weapons."

Nizibel straightened her face, adjusting her glasses, "They're tools, thank you." She released her collar, pulling the shirt back into place.

"Since when have pillows been considered tools?" I butted in.

"They're tools for sleeping," Jolts replied.

"You have a good point, sir." I put my hand to my chin, realizing truth in his words.

"Both of you just _shut up_." Nizibel said, standing up. "I'm over here trying to get Estel to buy me some food with the only currency I have," She started, with Jolteon interjecting "Tits" to finish her sentence, but she ignored him, "And you're just trying to ruin my fun."

She turned away from us, at which point I pulled her night shirt up, revealing her lower back and thin legs extending from it. A white, lacy thong slipped up the valley of her skin, as I said, "I dunno about that, Zaps. She's got this going for her, too." Suddenly, the shirt was removed from my hand, and held and pressed to the back of her thighs by slender hands with glossy nails.

"I will _show you that_ when _I want you_ _to see it_!" She said, her face red as physically possible.

Jolteon suddenly leaped across the opposite bed, and ducked on the other side. "You can explode now, I'm safe."

"Oh, please. It's not like I haven't seen it before." I said, waving my hand.

"You son of a bitch!" She shouted softly, raising both eyebrows, "It's generally considered good manners to knock when entering someone else's house!" Nizibel said, flustered.

"It's also common practice, in order to keep your nipples from being rock hard, to not walk around ass naked." Jolteon said, ducking in cover.

"It was _MY_ house!" She said, smiling but attempting to hide it.

"At least you're cute." I said, looking at my hands and rubbing them together. She suddenly stopped, turned around and glared a hole through me.

"I hate you so much right now." She stated directly, still attempting to hide her smile.

"I hate you, too, tits." I replied. "That nickname never fit more than when I walked in, though. Isn't that where it came from?"

She thought for a moment, indulging in the moment. "I think it was." She delved into the moment a little more, but finally moved away, rummaging for clean clothing to wrap herself in. "But I swear by all that is holy, you lift my night shirt up like that again, they'll be picking you up with a fucking spoon."

The town was cloaked in spotted shadows, from the various clouds that hung in the sky. The small city became suddenly depressed and suddenly alive again as each cloud slid by. We found the street paved with feet, as usual. I simply followed Nizibel, who ducked in and out of stores, browsing for her next addiction. We passed by a bakery, whose odors radiated against the air in decadent and flavorful aroma. As we entered, Jolteon barely contained himself of drool. The shelves were lined with freshly baked confections and pastries, some of which appear to have stepped out of a sweets catalogue, and could lift even a man with a head cold from his feet to levitate through the door.

The Old Italian proprietor greeted us heartily, with an enormous smile on his face. His graying moustache appeared a hairy Caterpie that had somehow found itself lodged between his lip and nose. He appeared to greatly enjoy himself, as he showed us around the shop. His smile never faded, which became infectious quickly. Jolteon found himself fogging the domed window in front of a rich cream cheese and dark chocolate cake. He appeared seemingly daydreaming of devouring its existence, even the air that came with it to leave a vacuum in space and time. The attendant was amused by his antics, and offered him a small sample of it. He enjoyed it thoroughly, and caused the attendant to giggle as he fell, belly up, to the floor. The room was filled with laughter and cheery faces on employees and customers alike.

As I browsed the absolutely delicious-looking glass cases, I spoke with the owner, whom I found not a speck of dishonesty. I spoke a few moments to Nizibel, but unfortunately she was long disposed of, caring for a fragile piece of cheesecake sample. He pulled up a pair of chairs and offered me a seat, pouring tea into a cup before the chair he offered me. I took up the offer, and sat down in the iron plaza chair.

"We've been in business for many, many years now. Hard to say how many, but my first priority has always been to make customers happy, even if I don't make a sale." The proprietor said to me in a thick accent, as we sat at a café table in the corner, watching various people search about the small shop.

"Judging by the quality of your creations, I image you use higher quality, more expensive ingredients." I said, looking at a handful of particularly appetizing snicker-doodles.

"Expensive, yes. But always worth it!" He said, animating with his hands. He played out kneading dough, "Only the best flour will do, because dough may not rise fluffy enough. I always keep an eye out for quality ingredient makers, and I am fortunate to have bought flour from same people for near twenty years!"

"Oh really? Who do you buy it from?" I said, surprised.

"Very talented family that run small mill from New Bark." He said, motioning towards the east, "Hillman Spangler and his wife, Tasha."

"Really?" I said, upstarting, "That's actually my uncle and aunt!"

The Italian man suddenly laughed from the chest and diaphragm. His bellow of a chuckle shook his chair, "Small world! Small world!" He yelled as he laughed. "So are you a Spangler, or…?"

"Me? No, I'm a Blackheart – The Spanglers are on my father's side, but the Blackhearts are a recognized clan, so my mother kept her name when my parents married." I explained.

"Well, that's okay," He said, turning to the counter. An oddly familiar-looking young Asian girl attended to a customer, shutting the drawer. "Keiko," He directed towards her, "Please, ring up my friend here a gift certificate for a free package item."

"Oh, you don't have to…" I started, pushing my hands out.

"Please, it is on me. I insist." He said, taking the small slip of paper from the girl and offering it to me.

I wrapped by fingers around the paper, "Well, then thank you very much."

As he let go, "No, do not thank me, I always make sure my friends are taken care of."

I removed a small card from my wallet, stating my name and contact information, followed by "A+, SEC+ Certified." I handed it to him, "If you ever need any computer work done, then, I'm your man."

He took the card and stuffed it into his shirt pocket, underneath his apron. "That's good, because I don't know jack shit about them," He said, merrily. "So Zeb is your cousin, then?" He asked, inquiringly.

"Yes, sir, she is. You may also know my sister, Laine." I said.

"Laine?" He thought for a moment, but suddenly brightened. "Yes, I know her. Good girl, very obedient and well-mannered. Your parents raised her well." He said, sitting back.

"Well, that would be true if they were still around." I said, attempting to sound casual. The smile faded from his face for the first time.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He said, clenching his hands together.

"Our mother passed away almost 4 years ago, when she was 12. Our father disappeared soon after, wrought with grief." I told the man, his moustache oscillating back and forth.

He suddenly smiled again, pulling the aged and wizened skin to the rear of his face. "Well, then I must say, for a young man of your age, you've done an exceptional job. I would be proud to hire Laine into this shop any day."

"I'm glad to hear that." I said, warmly grinning.

"Estel! They have turtle-marbled cheesecake!" Nizibel said from beside me, wiggling her body back-and-forth. Her eyes glistened as her hands caressed her jaw. I turned my gaze to her, and then returned to the Italian proprietor, who grinned broadly. I looked back at her, then the gift certificate in my hand. I thought for a moment, then handed her the paper.

"Don't say I never gave ya nothin'." I said, grinning. Confused, she took the paper, examined it closely, and processed the information. She suddenly lit up brightly and threw her arms around me. She hugged me tightly, squealing, "Thank you!" The glass case suddenly witnessed a pair of perfect blue eyes staring into it, wantingly.

"So who might that be?" The man said, leaning over the table and raising an eyebrow.

"That's Nizibel – she's…" I began, as Jolteon suddenly appeared over the edge of the table, pulling himself up with his front paws.

"His favorite fuck," Jolteon butt into the sentence. The proprietor laughed heavily, powerfully amused by the sudden interjection.

I propped my forehead against my arm, which perched on the table's rigid rod iron structure. I then tapped my fingers, staring at him intensely with my lips drawn to a needlepoint.

"What?" Jolteon said, suddenly.

"Does Estel have to slap a bitch?" I said, focusing on Jolts' expression. After a long pause, I redirected my attention back to the owner. "I apologize; he gets his smartassery from me." The Italian man chuckled, flying his attention between us.

"But seriously, she's a childhood friend; we've known each other since at least I was 4. Our families have lived close together, and our mothers were very good friends." I explained, propping my arm that still sat on the table under my chin.

"Well, it's always nice to have friends. I can tell she respects you, and you take very good care of her." He said, padding his gut. "It reminds me of Azzo, a very old friend of mine. We started this bakery, me and him. He retired and wanted to travel, and I had no problems stopping him."

"Why is that, wouldn't you rather he be here, helping you run the bakery?" Jolteon asked, suddenly.

"Well, my yellow friend, we're both going to die one day, me and him. We have no regrets, as we have both lived full lives. If he dies before me, then so be it. If I die before him, then he feels the same way. The one that dies first is not left alone, because the old bastard will soon follow!" He said, keeping his cheery disposition. The old man rubbed his chin, "Everyone on this planet, your mother included, died when the time was right. They couldn't have passed away any sooner or later, because that's not how history played out. Everyone in the world has a reason to pass. That reason is that they have lived a full life; that it's their turn to rest, because they spent a lifetime earning it." He said. He waved an open hand to a young man, about my age if not older, who stood at an oven in the kitchen of the shop. "My son taught me that when my wife, his …mother …died. I feel confident that he can take over this shop after Azzo and I have long passed earned our rest." He laughed under his breath as he watched the young man work.

"Because you know that he is wise enough to know why you're so happy right now." I told him.

He chuckled, looking back at me. "From what you say, it sounds to me like _you_ are very wise, too." He said, leaning forward. "If that is remotely true, then tell me: Why _do_ I try to stay happy?"

"If you had asked me that when we first sat down, I would have said, "To keep customers happy and employees from seeing you stressed," but I can tell that's not like you. You remain cheerful because you know what your son feels, you carry it in your heart because he didn't tell you, his heart did – that once you've spent your lifetime, it's your turn to rest, and he's come to accept that your time will come when it will come. That it was _earned_, not _forced._" I said, leaning back. I took a sip of the tea cup sitting on the table, the warm red tea marching into my system.

"I like you." He said, nodding his head. "You're a very sharp young man." He smiled broadly, leaning back into his chair. "He hates that I don't computerize anything. He has wanted to computerize the entire store, bring us up to modern standards." He said, standing up. He stretched, as I rose to meet him. "You can expect a call from him in a few years." He said, rubbing his back; the white hairs in his moustache began shimmering through. His chef's hat bobbed and flopped as he gyrated about. He finally stuck his hand out front of him. "It's been an excellent experience talking with someone as intelligent as you." He said. "You can call me Durante."

I gripped his hand, shaking it with a convulsing chuckle. "Durante. Italian for steadfast, enduring; it suits you." He smiled broadly at my statement. As we released, an employee informed him of a delivery coming in. A clipboard appeared in the old man's hand, a pen in the other.

He opened his mouth and laughed at the name. "It appears your family is here with some flour." He said, signing his name. "If you would like to see them, you're welcome to follow me."

I nodded, looking to Jolteon. He trotted towards Nizibel, who still stood over the counter's delicacies. She turned around after Jolts said a few words to her, where she bounded towards me, following me closely as we made our way through the kitchen. The old man led us through a labyrinth of baking tools and departments; men, women, and various Pokémon in cooking outfits, and finally through a heavy steel door into the rear of the store, which opened up into a loading dock. Several Machop scurried about, moving large crates of items at a time, with a single large human watching over them with a checklist. In the lower area, just large enough for a small vehicle to back into, a white cargo van sat in place with the words Spangler Wheat Mill, Ltd. painted clearly on the side. My uncle Hillman approached the large man with the clipboard, whom proceeded to make a few marks on a sheet of paper. Laine and Zeb followed him closely, both wearing white gloves and flannel shirts, same as his. The rear of the van swung open by a Machop's hand, and then two others walked into the cargo bay from a raised section of concrete and proceeded to remove two large sacks each of well-milled flour. Nizibel and I walked around the corner of the bay, where the three faced the opposite direction. The old man walked to them, shaking Uncle Hillman's hand.

Over the soft rustling of flour sacks, I heard Durante say to the trio, "I had three very interesting customers come in this morning." Hillman straightened his belt, tugging his pants up. "What …er, do you mean?" my uncle said, unsure of how it affected him.

"Well, it was a young man and a lady companion, and the fellow said he knew you." They each looked at one another, as Nizibel conversed with Jolteon quietly as to what transpired.

"Whut did 'e look like?" Zeb's accent announced she was from a rural community. "Was it dem fuckin' Yer-watsernames…?" My uncle interjected, "Yosemite?" Zeb continued, "Yeah! Was it dem Yer-sem-it-ee asshowles tryin' to start trouble?" She rolled up her sleeve. I was standing directly behind Laine now, and all three were oblivious.

"I don't know if he was trying to start trouble, you'd have to ask him yourself." The old man said, as my uncle became slightly suspicious.

"Well whur ez tha damn varmint?" Zeb said, puffing herself up.

"Right behind you." The old man said, calmly. The three turned and looked over their shoulders, with a little shock and awe mixed in with confusion.

"Sup." Jolteon said at my feet as Nizibel waved at them from behind me. Laine suddenly threw her arms around me, as Zeb sighed and Uncle Hillman laughed.

Uncle Hillman's cigarette glowed with a warm touch from his lighter's fickle flame. The wispy smoke rolled about, then was swept away in the breeze. The park bench supported two, with me next to him. Jolteon sat next to us, on the ground spying on a group of Pidgey happily feeding upon bread and bird seed from an elderly lady down the path. My uncle leaned back, putting the cigarette to his mouth, and taking a long draw from it. He held it in for a moment, removing the tobacco product, and finally exhaled the large puff of smoke into the open crisp air.

"I thought you quit smoking." I said, scratching Jolteon's ear.

"Fuck that." He said, bluntly. "Between that cousin and aunt of yours I might as well do something that kills me faster."

I smiled, amused. But as my cheerful expression faded, the gruff old man next to be became shrouded in darkness, then myself. The cloud moved overhead, allowing the sun to warm us once again. "Have you heard anything about…?"

"Not a peep. I was actually hoping you'd be the first, I expect you at least wouldn't kill him on sight." He said in a raspy tone, scrutinizing the glowing red tip of his cigarette.

"Well, he's your brother and you saw it coming before anyone." I said, looking to the sky. "I feel like you should swing at him before I do, you earned that much."

"If Dad heard you say that, he'd probably agree without a second thought, and open up a manhunt." Uncle Hillman took another draw from his cigarette, as Jolteon averted his attention to some unknown sound in the distance.

"A manhunt? No, I don't want that. If I find him, I want it to be because _I_ found him." I stated, directly to my uncle.

"You're just like him, then. He would probably rather see you first, and knowing him, apologize for what he put you through." His gruff chin became home to a caressing hand, which found its way to his throat. "To be honest, I expected you to be long gone from here by now."

"Nah, I haven't even challenged Falkner yet." I said, revisiting the past few days.

"You'll win." He said, rolling a Pokéball around his hand. "I remember when it was Hans in charge of that gym. Poor Charmeleon here didn't stand a chance."

"Why do you think I'll win, then?" I said, scratching Jolteon's ear again.

"Because you have more conviction than anyone I know. You're like a superhero to Laine. You should've seen the look on her face when she read your letter." He said, looking at me. "You've got more heart than me, that's for sure." His cigarette suddenly vanished, flicked into a nearby trashcan. "Your mother knew that better than anyone. I really don't think I could've brought myself to tell them to pull the plug." He looked at the ground. "Your father would've never even had the thought if you hadn't said it."

"I said what came from the heart, like I always do. Besides, that doesn't tell me why _I _would win." Jolteon peered around at my statement, as my uncle squinted at me, perplexed. "Personally, I haven't won a battle yet." I said, into the open.

"This is going somewhere, because I've watched you dominate people and wild Pokémon hundreds, if not thousands of times." He said.

"Yeah, where's this going?" Jolteon asked.

"You should know better, Jolts. There's no _I_ in team. _We_ won all those battles." I rubbed his head, as he enjoyed the statement.

"That's it right there. That's why I believe you two will turn that gym upside down." He said, reaching into his shirt pocket. He produced a pack of cigarettes, and removed one with his lips. The familiar smell of burning tobacco rolled over the park bench as he flipped the metal lighter closed and put it back into his pocket. As though déjà vu, he removed the cigarette from his mouth and held it atop his knee. "How are you and Nizibel getting along, Nephew?" He cocked his head back, resting it on his shoulder to look at me.

Another cloud floated over as I searched for a proper answer. His face grey bleached of color, then flooded once more as the sun beamed down again. "I can't really say. I feel like I'm doing something wrong, like events are conspiring for her to be mad at me, but I don't know why or for what purpose."

He looked to the ground. "Women have strange events follow them around. It's best not to think about it and just ride the current. If it goes south, the best thing to do is not force the issue. Just walk away and give it time. Time is a funny thing; it tends to heal any wound. Sometimes it makes a scar. That scar is a reminder of the past, both for you to learn from, and for you to look back on and smile." He said, patting me on the shoulder. "You're a smart kid. You'll figure it out."

We watch the day pass by for some time, Jolteon joining into our conversations occasionally. The sun began to sink into the horizon, burning with passion to hide behind a cloud. Its tired body slumped and hung there, regardless of time.

"How's the business doing?" I said, noticing his shirt's logo.

"Fine, fine. The Bakery here is one of our best customers; the old man has kept us afloat through more than one pinch." He said, twirling an unlit cigarette like a baton.

"How about your equipment? Is the mill still running okay?" He stopped, dropping the cigarette. He quickly picked it up, stating, "Fine," attempting to hide his distress. I clasped my hands, looking at Jolteon, who could tell what I was thinking.

"It's that bearing again isn't it?" I cornered him, forcing him into the open.

"You hit the nail on the head harder than a fucking ragdoll whore." He said, covering his mouth with his hand. "The damn thing, I can't afford to replace it, and it's getting harder to fix." He put the now crimped cigarette back into the pack. "If that bearing breaks, our mill will be little better than a pile of sticks." He paused for a moment, "I was lucky to get the van paid for." He said, concentrating excessively hard on twiddling his thumbs. His lower lip stirred, as did mine when I became aggravated about something.

"Dammit," He suddenly cursed, leaning forward and supporting his elbows on his knees. "Seems like one thing after another, and I can't keep my head above water like this… My only saving grace is that Laine and Zeb don't ask for money. They help out any way they can." He paused for a moment, "But Zeb… My baby… we think she's pregnant." His eyes began to swell with water, sweat beginning to bead down his aged face. "I'm trying, but dammit…" He swallowed his face with his palm, as I rubbed his back. "Aw, hell… I shouldn't bother you with this," He stated, standing up. "I'm gonna head home. Zeb and Laine have money for a taxi; send em my way when you find 'em." He walked off, hands in his pockets, and head hung low.

Jolteon looked at me. "So Zeb might be pregnant, now. That's about the last thing Uncle Hillman needed."

"You just made the understatement of the year." I said, watching him walk along the path. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I said, glancing back to Jolts.

He turned his head, seeing the old man rubbing his hands against his face. "You're thinking about that number in your bank account, aren't you?" He said, worried.

"Yeah." I replied, as our expressions crossed.

A sharp yell, sounding suspiciously like my name came from a male source. I turned about on the bench in the blazing evening sun to behold Shiro and Kit walking towards me.

"Estel! We heard you were still in town." Shiro said, excited.

"Yeah, I decided to stay a while before I fought Falkner." I said, greeting them.

"How are you two?" Jolteon motioned to them.

"We would be a lot fucking better if shithead here hadn't gone and got lost in the mountains." Kit exclaimed.

"I wasn't lost." Shiro replied, calmly.

"Like hell you weren't! Fucking retard." Kit stated, crossing his arms. "We passed the same tree 4 times, I swear to fuck."

"I was testing you." Shiro glared at Kit for a moment.

"Do you to have pissing contests _every_ day or is it just for me?" I said, breaking the two up. "Now, really, what are you two doing around?"

"We decided to walk the Trainer's Pilgrimage. Seems we get lost too easily when we pick a direction, and neither of us have a car." Shiro said, but suddenly amended, "Actually, Kit has the money for one, no problem, but…"

"Not happening. I ain't gambling that much money." Kit said, pulling his head up and away.

"He seems to think that the minute he buys it, the damn thing will explode or some shit." Shiro said, annoyed.

"That seems… highly unlikely to me." I said, rolling my eyes back and forth on the subject.

"The chances of it are fucking slim at best." Shiro directed towards Kit.

"Still not fucking happening. It's my money, I'll spend it how I see fit." Kit said.

Shiro looked at his watch. "Whatever. Anyway, we'll see you around."

The two disappeared around the bend in the road. The sun had nearly set now, clouds encircling the vibrant orb of light and soaking in its orange glow. The city's skyline drank the sky's color, replacing it with a magnificent pink. Jolteon admired the glow against his fur, as I leaned against the park bench I once sat upon.

"Should we go find the girls?" Jolteon said, looking about.

I glanced about the perimeter of the park, seeing a gallery of coffee shops and cafés. "Where do you think they went?" I said, stretching.

"We should probably check restaurants nearby. Nizibel said she was hungry." Jolteon turned around, then rubbed his fur against the metal of the bench. A small spark flew from his back, signaling him to stop.

I recalled a clue. "She also said she wanted a _drink_."

Jolteon said, "Coffee shop?"

I replied, "More potent than that."

"It's probably your fault if she went to a bar." Jolteon declared.

"Most likely. Perhaps drinking in front of her was a bad idea." I admitted.

We perused several bars and saloons in the area, finally finding the moon in control of the sky. In the young nights' bitter embrace, we finally came to a bar nearby the Bakery. Noticing their presence at a table to the side, rounded with a planet above them, I slid a few coins into a pay phone at the door. The taxi company answered.

I entered the building, walking towards their table. Several plates were stacked, cleared of contents. A small slip of paper with a large PAID sat, tucked underneath a stack close to Nizibel, who sat on the left side of me. I approached the table, which held Zeb in the center and Laine on my right. I leaned on the table, as they greeted me suspiciously cheerfully.

"Estel! Pull up a seat, order something!" Nizibel said graciously.

"I'll be fine. Are you three aware of the time?" I stated, staring at them, Laine in particular.

"Well it's happy hour, that's for damn sure." Laine said, staring back at me. The three giggled horrendously at the seemingly inside joke.

"Uncle Hillman already went home, he wanted me to send you two along. I've already called a cab." I said, trying to compose myself.

"Pa gave us munny fer (hic!) it, whe'll bee dandy." Zeb said, trying to keep her head off the table.

"Alright. I called the cab company, it'll be here in a… Wait, are you drunk?" I said, Jolteon suddenly staring at them each carefully.

"No." Nizibel answered, wobbling.

"Maybe," As stated by Zeb.

"Only a little…" Laine replied.

I pulled my hand up to them, holding my index finger down with my thumb, extending the rest in front of them. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"T…t…two?" Nizibel said, squinting and slurring her words.

"Dat'sh a trick (hic!) quesshun. Yer tree t'umbs dere dun… cownt." Zeb finally spurted, her accent making her slur much worse.

Laine stared for a time, then answered, "Well, put your fingers up… so I can (hic!) count."

I dropped my hands and head, crouching down to impact my forehead on the table's edge. I stood back up, rubbing my face. I finally looked at the three of them directly, "Are you fucking me?"

Nizibel, without skipping a beat, replied, "No, but I (hic!) could be."

Suddenly, upon hearing the statement, my right eyebrow climbed to the top of my forehead at an alarming speed. I felt as though I was forced to physically grab it in order to pull the bastard back into place.

"I SAW THAT EYEBROW!" Jolteon suddenly exclaimed.

"No, you didn't." I rebutted, trying to remain calm.

"Yes I did. That eyebrow was movin' faster than a Persian at a Magikarp catching contest!" Jolteon chuckled, heckling me.

"What eyebrow? I don't have an eyebrow." I stated, shifting my eyes. The three girls giggled again, each supporting herself on the table.

"Shtop tryin' ter fuck mah cuzzin, at leest yew have a chesht ter werk wit'!" Zeb said, padding a pair of very small and perky breasts planted on her chest. "I tink Estel dun shtohl mine and gave 'em to yer sorreh ass!" Zeb's slurring showed it colors.

Laine leaned over, groping her breast. "What? (hic!) B-cup ain't good enough for (hic!) ya?"

I planted my face into my palm, composing myself. "You two are way out of line." I said, staring specifically at Zeb this time. "I heard from your father that you might be pregnant." I stated to her. She suddenly stopped laughing; now averting eye contact with me.

"I er… Shuppose that there might be true." Her speaking cleared up suddenly, as though her laughter was slurring her language more than the booze.

"And you, young lady…" I turned to Laine. "You're barely old enough to drink. I feel like you're disgracing yourself getting utterly hammered solely because you can." She suddenly stopped laughing as well, reflecting on my statement. A light honk came from outside. I helped the two to their feet, walking them outside. I aided them into the taxi, where neither attempted eye contact with me. They each then slump their head to the side, appearing half asleep.

"Get these two to New Bark, the Spangler Mill." I said to the driver, handing him a pair of crisp, new $100 bills. "This should cover it, along with a "Don't ask, don't tell" fee. Also, give this note," I scribbled some text on a scrap piece of paper, "To Hillman Spangler. He'll know what to do." He silently took the money, and nodded with the note. The taxi's heavy body gave a slight rev, and then rolled out over the hill.

I walked back into the establishment, where Nizibel sat, finishing a glass of a neon blue drink. Jolteon watched as she set the glass down, then allowed her to rub his head as she attempted to stand up. He pulled her back down by biting the seat of her skirt.

"Sorry, Nizi. You're far too drunk to be walking around on your own." Jolteon stated, as she looked at him, disgruntled.

I walked to the table, and in spite of the crowd's wandering curiosity, I helped the large-chested girl to her feet, allowing her to hold onto my shoulder as she attempted balance. She slumped heavily against me, barely able to put her feet onto the ground.

A group of men from the bar intercepted my path finding to the exit. One wore a leather jacket, with long hair combed to the side, his height falling short of my own by an easy three inches. I paid no mind to him, attempting to maneuver around Nizibel's body without groping her.

"Well, boys, what do we have here?" The fellow in the leather jacket asked the three behind him. I suddenly noticed a Spearow clinging to his shoulder. The bird had an eye patch, but scanned the room on what appeared to be a roundabout neck.

"Looks to me like a chump taking off with the girl you wanted to ask out." The guy to his left examined.

Nizibel lifted her head up slightly, "I told you to fuck off…" Her slurring took the place of the end of her sentence.

"Sounds to me like she said, "I told you to fuck me."" The fellow in the back said, animating the ordeal with his hands.

"She's drunk, alright? Let me just take her where she can sleep, and I'll chat with you wonderful gentlemen later, cool?" I said, acting nonchalant. Jolteon's fur began to spark with his rising aggression.

"Ooh, look, Monty! That yellow pile of shit back there is angry!" A fellow behind the leader said.

"Should I be scared, you piece of shit? Don't forget, if a Pokémon attacks a human, it's a crime." Monty, the leader, stated mockingly.

He was unsettlingly correct. There are two forms of police in the world, one force that can arrest humans, and one for that keeps Pokémon in check. The two never cross, and follow the terms, "Humans battle humans, Pokémon battle Pokémon."

I suddenly attempted to go past them, "Very well, then excuse me." I stated. Monty began to follow, but was stopped when Nizibel slurred out, "Don't follow us, you piss-pile of trash." He became angry, telling the fellows following him, "Fuck her, then. I didn't want that whore, anyway." Jolteon followed me outside, sparks slowly fading from his fur.

"Nizibel, promise me you won't do this again." I said to her, as she began to walk on her own.

"Why not? I'm not pregnant like Zeb or really young like Laine, I can make my own decisions, I'm a big girl, dammit." She said, defending herself.

"It's not healthy to do stupid shit like this." I said, suddenly feeling a tug at my arm.

"Don't you fucking dare try to tell me what to do." Nizibel said, wobbly standing on her own, glaring at me.

"Nizi, calm down. I…" The words began to flow from my mouth, but I suddenly lost the urge to speak as she interjected.

"Don't fucking 'Nizi' me, asswipe!" She said, anger growing.

"You're being immature." I said, standing up straight.

"_I'M_ being immature? Look at yourself, you fucking prick, I'm not a little girl you need to be all high and fucking mighty about all the time. I'm not Zeb, and I'm not Laine! You can fucking pretend all you want, but I'm not your fucking pet that needs to be sheltered!" She raged out, the people in the street steering clear.

"The FUCK you say, you bitch!" I suddenly shouted, as her expression became similar to that of a Stantler in the headlights. "You can't even stand the fuck up, and you have the goddamn balls to call ME an asswipe? Take a good long, hard fucking look at yourself you fucking whore, I'm not the one that went out and got drunk off my goddamn ass just for shits and fucking giggles. I'm trying to fucking _help_ you, here!"

"Help me?" She said, tears starting to explode from her eyes, "You're trying to tell me what to do like I'm your fucking pet or some shit!" She whimpered and cried into the street; shouting through a waterfall from her eyes, "Don't fucking expect me to come back tonight, I fucking hate you, you dumbass mother fucker!" She turned and began wobbly walking away. She turned into a side street, as I clenched my fist tightly. I began to walk after her, but suddenly remembered what my uncle said.

_Women have strange events follow them around. It's best not to think about it and just ride the current. If it goes south, the best thing to do is not force the issue. Just walk away and give it time._

I unclenched my fist, reaching into my pocket. I removed a small black collar with a compartment on it. I wrapped the collar around Jolteon, stating to him while fighting back anger, "I want you to follow her. I'm putting some money in here if she needs it, but primarily, I want you to keep her out of trouble."

Jolteon sighed deeply, looking at me with glazed eyes. "Alright. Stay safe." He said, as he dashed off at high speed, around the corner.

I watched him run off, standing. I took a few steps forward, towards the concrete wall of the city's night life. I suddenly slammed my fist into it angrily. I then walked with swift conviction to the outskirts of the town, calling Eevee out of his ball.

"I've got some kinks to work out. Ready to go?" I said, looking towards a large rock and gritting my teeth.

The young Eevee suddenly reared his head, pushing it to the ground and grinning sinisterly.

"Alright, then. Start tackling, I want that rock broken." I said, the moonlight shining down on my hands, being wrapped in tape. The Eevee rocketed towards the rock, impacting it with immense force compared to other Pokémon his size. He pulled back, and rocketed towards the rock once more.

I pulled myself from the daydream the glass in that sink induced. My mind wandered, wondering what became of Nizibel the night before. I worried for her, as I revolved around what transpired, and what I did wrong. I thought of that punk with the Spearow, and his gang. As I lifted my head with battered hands, I saw myself in the mirror over that kitchen sink; the hills and valleys of my face each and all metaphorically wrinkled with despair. I saw there a man I wanted to almost murder, he disgusted me. His hair was short cropped, deep brown. His chin harbored a thick but short goatee, and his jaw line a shadow of apathy. His eyes were deep oceanic blue, but dulled by his shortcomings. I'll never forget his face, though, because something appealed to me as missing. In the bleak silence, I found myself mistaken: A single tear rolled down his cheek at the last moment, followed by a blinding flash of lightning, and a deafening crash of thunder as it fell down his jaw and into the wine glass.

_ Journal Entry #5, Mostly Cloudy, March 29__th__, 1052._

_ I fucked up._


	5. Chapter 5

**5: My Curse**

Silence is a powerful tool. It wracks the conscience with mocking irony. Left to his own devices, man will be the downfall of himself. No other, but himself. In this I find comfort: Knowing the fell truth that only I can destroy myself in the end. My hatred, sorrow, and happiness converge here. In the solemn river I'm bound to be found in, broken neck and burned skin, I'll finally have my reckoning called and delivered in a final judgment. I speak here of righteousness and deliverance, but feel no pain for the ones left to die, bleeding and broken. Perhaps this is because I am among them, the bastion of their hearts' desires and feelings. Their dreams and nightmares. With any hope still breathing in my chest, I'll sit here in a hotel room I don't deserve and drown in these tears. I'll drown in the desperation of being known as human, because a monster is all I can find here.

My heart is a bottomless void, its seething acid devouring itself eternally. Given the circumstances, I'd like it to remain this way. My chest in agony, and my body unable to respond in grief. I'll shout my curses at the wall, my fist against what I see fit, and regard no one with the knowledge of why. From apathy? Perhaps. Or perhaps from a feeling and thought I can only describe as being less than canon. I can feel it – my pain swelling from inside and bubbling to the surface. This injury is self-proclaimed, thus ignores the common side effects of another's evil. That evil is my own, and with each heartbeat, makes its ache known.

The minute creases in my hand and fingers caressed the coarse hair across my jaw, picking at thoughts and emotions best left be. The ebb and flow of this tide was little trifle, giving way to much larger troubles lying ahead along this path. I walk it slowly, my hope being torn from me with each step. I gazed into the afterlife, and longed for its presence. I gazed to the heavens and prayed for an answer. Then finally found myself gazing into a mirror, expecting something to have changed. To my dismay, I found little to exclaim, my crashing self falling victim to the most heinous of crimes: Being called a piece of trash by the man in the mirror.

I have fallen. From as high as I could hold myself, I have fallen far into this ditch. Shouting obscenities into a mirror for sheer angry fulfillment, and then taking offense from the other side. This marble counter deserves better than being a platform for a broken record. Its glassy finish is scarred by the man using its surface to announce his toil to the world, his broken back and his broken voice. My voice – the final instrument of my demise. It's melodious hums and bellows cry out in pain, battered and grated against filthy language. Between the tears, a small spark emerged, its light dimly excavating the darkness.

"What would your mother think of you now?" A familiar voice echoed from some distant place. "I'm disappointed that my son would do this to himself."

I stopped. My eyes stretched open wide as tears halted flow. I blinked twice, as silence fell over me. The rain outside faded into muffled audio from nothingness. My eyes moved fluidly from one point to another, and back again. My breathing calmed down, and my heart began to beat slowly. My lips' tremble stilled as my head tilted, showing me the repulsive mirror once more.

"I thought you were going to punch me?" The voice said, as though a projection of my deepest feelings. "The hell I'll go down to some punk who can't keep a promise."

"Old man." I said, my voice suddenly still and calm, "Of all the times your voice could have popped into my head, now is the time I didn't see coming." I paused for a moment, sighing at myself, wiping away what little water clung to my face. "But, even if you're just a figment of my imagination, you really know what to say."

I turned the water on, splashing a few handfuls on my face. The rain outside became heavier. I stopped and closed my eyes, listening. I suddenly chuckled. "I can hear my own heartbeat again. That's good. This beat is for Laine, and I want to keep it that way." In the mirror, I straightened my shirt, and pushed my hair back. The eyes I saw now resonated more blue hue than before. I also felt a calming sensation seeing his expression, as though the man in the mirror suddenly felt a little more sane than usual.

The street lights were glowing in the streaks of rain. Each drop impacted the umbrella, deflected from atop the canvas and landed somewhere nearby. The rain kissed my boots, which sloshed through puddles and pushed ahead without trouble. I passed people and Pokemon rushing about seeking shelter from the rain's sheets and torrents. Some huddled together under bus stops, others bunkered into buildings of various nature, and others still pushing together under umbrellas similar to mine. I watched a motionless scene of streaking raindrops and bright flashes occupying the city street. The rain's constant hum and the thunder's roll filled the air with a sense of duty as well as urgency. I walked. Simply walked. I did not run, stride or jog. This statements seems unfitting of this story, but it's the honest truth. I walked in the direction that my feet carried me, regardless of that direction's orientation.

The water began to accumulate on the sidewalk, forming a river into various drains. Vehicles of all sizes slowly passed by, creating a small wave of fluid motion as they passed. My feet suddenly stopped, as I stared at a old man named Durante who sat on a covered patio beside his humble bakery, staring into the rain. Wispy smoke rose from a pipe he held to his mouth on aged and experienced hands. He looked up, pulling his hat from his eyes. Without changing expression, he reached far into his shirt pocket and produced a book of matches. His eyes locked mine, as he struck the match. His attention diverted to his hand cupping over the pipe, and a soft warm glow emitting from underneath. He pulled his hands apart, supporting the old wooden tobacco tool between his lips at the smaller end. He shook the hand that held the remains of the match, pulling the fire from its tip. His son removed himself from the table, disappearing inside as the old man deposited the exhausted match into an ashtray. He looked at me again, locking eyes.

"Damn this weather. Slow day." He said, the pipe bouncing between his lips.

"Smoking kills, you know." I replied, staring at the pipe.

"Well, I'm going to die sooner or later." He said, scrunching his face together, squinting as he took a deep breath from the tobacco.

"That's not exactly a good way to look at it." I said, analyzing his statement.

"Why not? I'd rather die happy than healthy any day." He said, holding the pipe in one hand as he exhaled.

I chuckled. But, as my smile faded, I began to ask, "Have you seen..."

"Nizibel?" He finished. My expression refused to change, but affirmed his suspicions. "Hmm," He sighed, watching the tobacco glow orange for a moment. "That depends..."

"On me." I said, interrupting him.

The old man smiled broadly. "You really are sharper than you look." He took a long puff from the pipe, as the rain pelted my umbrella. I stood still on the sidewalk, one hand in a pocket, one holding the umbrella.

He suddenly replied through a cloud of smoke, "Yeah, kid. She was here earlier, and had that spastic little Pokemon of yours. Jolteon didn't say a word the entire time, so I knew something was wrong even though she put on that little act." He pulled the pipe from his mouth, and gazed into the rainy street. "She says she doesn't remember what happened last night, but you just can't bullshit a bone fide bullshitter." He said, slacking his jaw and placing the pipe into its home. "Whatever happened, you are a good man, and she is a reasonable young lady. You'll figure something out." He paused for a moment, then leaned forward in his chair.

"How about we leave it at a jackass said something he shouldn't have." I said, looking forward, into the street ahead.

He grinned, holding his pipe to his mouth. "Good enough for me." He said, getting up. "She went towards the bar she was at last night, said something like you may look for her there." He finished, opening the door to the bakery. He turned to me, gaining my attention by calling my name. I looked at him, my somber expression still lurking. "Go to her. Maybe she doesn't exactly _need_ you yet, but I expect that time will come soon." He squinted at me, finally waving, "I know men like you don't need it, but good luck, son." The door to the bakery closed, fanning a series of powerful scents towards me. The bakery's essence suddenly drowned in the old smell of mildew and soggy substances in the street best left not described. I looked ahead, finding myself smiling. I began walking once more.

Each step I took pulled the rain down harder. The temperature plummeted, but the storm grew closer. I suddenly found myself able to visualize my breath, suddenly lit up by random flashes of lightning. The street's crowded nature was lacking at this hour, as I filled the only position on the sidewalk for several blocks in either direction. The park's playful Pokemon were nowhere to be seen, save for a handful of water-types, and the benches supported no men, not even beggars. The time was early afternoon, but the lights each and all were illuminated, the windows of dry shelters flickering with hopeful light. A roll of thunder passes by, ignorant by my lone presence on the street.

I marched ahead, my resolve in this assignment undeterred by the horrendous conditions. The rain held no reservations, and poured from the sky, bombarding the umbrella as though no other task were befallen to it. The sky weeped and rivers formed, as the sky crashed with anger. Under the light of a new crash, I produced a cellular device, whose screen dictated no new calls.

I turned around the bend, the familiar neon lights spelling "BAR" coming into view. The rain blurred their existence, meshing the blue with yellow, yellow with green, and so creating a dynamic effect that weakened as I approached. The door finally swung open, revealing several people wearing uniforms cleaning the floors, and placing stools onto the floor from the counter.

"I'm sorry, we're closed for another hour or so." An older lady with a broom in hand said to me from nearby.

"I apologize for the intrusion, and I'm not here for a drink or anything." I said, shaking water from the umbrella. The Chancey next to the lady took the broom and continued sweeping. "I'm looking for a young lady. She's around my age, brunette with blue eyes." I motioned towards my upper chest, my palm flat. "About this tall or so."

The lady thought for a moment, then looked at me. "Does she wear glasses, with freckles-" She pointed to her nose, motioning down to her cheeks, "-Through here?" I nodded calmly. She suddenly looked over her shoulder at a man cleaning glasses behind the counter. "John! The chick that was here earlier, do you know where she went?"

The man – I assume John, from the lady's pointed denotation – put down his glass, and made his way around the counter and over to us. He put out his hand, "I'm the owner. Are you friends with that girl?"

I took his hand, "Yes, you can call me Blackheart."

"I assume you've been looking for her, she was asking if anyone had stopped by to ask about her, but I had to turn her away. I gave her a free drink, because she seemed pretty sad." He said, pulling his eyebrows together. "That Jolteon that was with her seemed pretty loyal, though. I figure she'll be alright on her own." The lady butted in.

"Yeah, you've got a point, there, Simone." John said, looking at her.

"Do you know what happened to her?" I asked him.

"Yeah, she left not to long ago, she probably hasn't gotten far." He said, looking at his watch.

"Alright. I have one more question for you." I said, looking him in the eye with a sense of resolve. He nodded, allowing me to continue. "The one guy, Monty I think his name was. What's the deal with him?"

John and Simone looked at each other, then back at me. Simone then walked away, taking another broom from the corner. John motioned me to follow him. He showed me a stool, and made his way behind the counter. As I sat on the stool and leaned forward, he picked up a glass and began to clean it. "Monty and his gang are actually quite notorious around here."

"Why is that?" I asked, pulling the stool forward.

"They really think they have this neighborhood under their thumb, like it belongs to them by birthright." He said, putting the glass down and producing another from behind the counter. I laid my cell phone onto the counter top, checking the screen.

"I'm guessing they're just all talk." I said, closing the phone.

"In a sense, yes. The people here believe them to be a nuisance, nothing more. We all feel like they're just a group of punks looking for a fight, but the way they talk, their collective _owns_ us and each building here." John whipped the dish rag out, and began cleaning another glass.

"Is there a reason, or are they just doing it for fun?" I asked.

"Well, the simple truth is that each of them are trainers. Most people around here aren't, and that makes them feel superior. Even the people around here who are trainers they feel superior over, because any time one of them enters a battle and starts losing, another will jump in to help, regardless of rules." John stated, putting the glass down. He then picked up a wine glass and held it to the bright fluorescent light above him, "They're bullies, give or take."

"Sounds like your average punks to me." I said, spinning the phone around.

"That's where it gets ambiguous. See, Monty is actually good, and the problem with that is, he _knows _it." The middle-aged man threw the towel over his shoulder and arranged a few glasses on the counter based on size.

"Any time Monty battles someone, he never needs help, because he just overpowers his opponent." John said, moving the glasses under the counter.

"Judging by the Spearow, I'm guessing he's a flying-type specialist." I said.

"It's worse than that. He's actually one of Falkner's trainers." John said, supporting himself on the counter.

"I see where the giant inflated ego comes from, then." I said, putting the phone back into my pocket.

"Aye. He's the lowest rank in the gym, but because of the fact that he's part of the gym's training core makes him think he should be Mayor or some shit." John said, angrily.

"So, does he hang out here often?" I asked, looking around at the décor.

"Yeah, but nobody complains about him and he pays his tabs, so I can't exactly throw him out." John said, polishing a bottle of wine.

"I can tell there's something else about his little gang that gets under your skin." I said, watching John's face. My suspicions were realized when stopped polishing the bottle and his eyebrows twitched.

"You're smarter than I took you for." He said, putting down the bottle. "You're right. He tends to solicit young women, using his position and brutality. I've seen him successfully pick up one girl here before, but he was back before the night was over. He even tried to hit on my daughter, Tabitha, while she was working here." Suddenly, the glass he had picked up shattered in his hand, as he sighed heavily.

"You don't like the idea that he hit on your daughter, or your daughter plus every other girl in here?" I asked pointedly.

"I suppose I could answer, "both" but that would derail the original point. He's an asshole, and those guys that shove their heads up his ass are all assholes, too." He said, picking up the broken glass.

"That friend of yours is pretty blunt, though. I enjoyed watching her get under Monty's skin last night." He said. "Speaking of, you'd better go find her before she wanders off too far."

I removed myself from the stool, and pushed it under the bar. "Thanks for the help, and the chat." I said, checking my phone one last time. He nodded, watching me turn, open the umbrella, and pass into the wall of water.

The rainwater seems to have risen during my stay. The water on the sidewalk had an extra slosh factor about it, and the sky seems to have darkened slightly. I traveled the same path I had the night before, minus Nizibel's body being supported under my own. I passed the alleyway that Nizibel had escaped through, with Jolteon in pursuit. I suddenly stopped, and backtracked to it. I stared down the alley, peering out the other side, where a new street lay dormant. My feet carried me through the alley, its darkened corners hiding several Meoweths digging through trash in search of a meal. The other side appeared a new world, but ultimately appeared the same as every other street in this damn town. I picked a direction on the sidewalk, and plowed through the water there.

I felt as though I had walked for a very long distance, coming upon a covered alley between two buildings. One was a hotel that continued on the other side, the other building was a small caf_é_. In the covered alley, I gave no interest until I heard a series of voices emitting from it. Upon noticing their presence, I revered to the mouth of the alley, finding myself staring over several trash cans. I barely saw movement in the alley further in, at the edge of a fence blocking access further. Under a brass outdoor light, I couldn't make out any distinctive figures or actions. I pulled my jacket up, tightening the zipper as I walked under the covering, putting down the umbrella. I shook the umbrella as I walked towards them, the water spraying against the wall. I suddenly caught a glimpse of a small, yellow creature between a series of legs. I'd recognize Jolteon anywhere.

I laid the water-deflecting apparatus against the wall, slowly advancing down the alley attempting to discover a motive or reason for this commotion. Advancing, I was eventually able to make out leather jackets and apparel of the like. I then spotted a Spearow. My demeanor felt a jolt of change, as though I was stricken with an urge to tear down the wall beside me. I drew near the huddle of men, walling my view of the interior events. They moved around rattlingly, as though both spooked and excited. I finally could make out voices.

"You runt! Come on, then, if you think you've got balls!" A mocking voice from the front said, taunting Jolteon.

"You fuckers get the hell away from Nizibel!" Jolteon plunged into the air, angrily.

"What are you going to do about it, you little shit?" Another one said, mockingly.

"I'll turn every one of you into crispy critters if I have to." Jolteon rebutted, but with little effect. A roar of laughter rose among them. I finally came in behind them, able to see over and between them. Nizibel was hunched into a corner, her clothes torn and tears in her eyes. Jolteon, with his fur completely needled out, stood between Monty's gang and Nizibel.

"Don't forget, you fucking pissant, that if you attack us, we'll just go to the authorities, and you'll never see the light of day again!" Monty's voice rose above the rest as a few sparks jolted out of Jolteon's back.

"Gentlemen, can I help you?" I suddenly said. The entire alleyway fell to deathly silence as each of the 5 men turned to see me. They suddenly spread out around me, as Monty came before me.

"Oh, looky here, fellas. Guess who this is." Monty said, grinning.

"Looks to me like the guy that tried to make off with your pussy." Another said to the side.

"That's what it looks like to me." Monty said. "So, did you hear that, buddy? That bitch was _my_ catch, first..."

"Excuse me, what did you just call Nizibel?" I said, calmly.

"Oh, so the sex doll _does_ have a name!" Monty said, followed by whooping sounds from the rest of them.

"That's not what I asked." I said.

"And it looks like I struck one of cockfag's nerves. I called her a bitch." He said, acting tough.

I looked over at Nizibel, who looked at me with pained eyes. Jolteon backed closer to her, putting a wall between her and the punks. I looked back at Monty, saying, "I'm not going to lie, you're starting to piss me off."

"Oh is that right, princess?" Monty said.

"Yes, it is. Anyone who calls my friend a fucking bitch needs to die in a fucking fire." I said, as Nizibel reacted to the statement, realizing I meant myself as much as Monty.

"Yeah? Is that right? Well, bitch, bitch, bitch; fucking carpet munching, cock swallowing ass-whore." He said, putting his face into mine.

"Now you're really starting to piss me off." I said, remaining calm.

"Estel, I really hope you're not digging yourself a grave." Jolteon said, from the side.

"Looks to me like he is!" Another one of Monty's lackeys blurted.

"So what are you going to about all this, huh, big man?" Monty said, tauntingly. "You wanna have a fucking Pok_é_mon battle about it?" He said, holding a Pokéball in his hand as his Spearow flew up and perched on a nearby fire escape.

I suddenly reached out with my left hand, gripping his collar, startling everyone. I calmly looked him in the eye, stating, "Fuck no." And thus pulled my right hand back, drawing it into a ball. I then launched it forward, landing my knuckles directly into his cheekbone, sending him flying backwards towards the ground. He landed hard, bouncing and rolling to his side, without an ounce of consciousness left in him. Without stopping, my left hand drew back to my jacket interior, revealing and wielding a revolver. The barrel of the gun then came to the lower jaw of the man directly to my left, and his eyes met an icy stare from my eyes. The scene came to a standstill, as the four remaining men stared between the pistol and the lifeless body of their leader.

"Holy fucking shit, man!" The man I pointed the gun towards said, putting himself against the wall. Sweat beaded down his face, even in the cool air.

"Holy fucking shit don't fucking cover it, this guy's nuts!" Another one said.

"Fuck this shit, I'm out, man!" A third said, as he began to flee from the alley. The other two followed him, leaving only the man with a gun to his chin.

I stared him down, as I said directly and forcibly, "Get the hell out of here."

He took the advice readily, and made all haste towards the torrential rain. I stowed the revolver into my pocket, turning the safety on and removing my jacket. I made my way to Nizibel, whose top was ripped and torn in several places. Her bra was showing, and was tied together on the left strap.

"Are you okay, Nizi?" I said, putting the light military fleece around her shoulders. She pulled the sides together from underneath, nodding slowly as her breath materialized in front of her. She shivered, standing.

"They pulled her to the side when I wasn't looking. It took me a few jolts to get them off of her. I expect they were planning on rape." Jolteon said, looking up at me.

"Well, it's okay, now." I said, helping her walk along.

The exquisite hotel room was comfortably warm. I handed a mug of coffee to a Nizibel wrapped and bundled in blankets, perched atop her bed. She took a sip of it, as I sat on my own bed, across from her. Jolteon quietly munched on a bowl of Pokémon snacks, every so often looking up to look at either of us.

Nizibel stared into the coffee's caramel color, as it swirled around in the mug. The room was silent, aside from Jolteon's soft crunching.

"Nizi, I'd like to apologize for..." I broke the silence.

"Don't worry about it." She said, smiling, looking away. "I got what you meant when you were talking to that douchebag." She took a sip of the coffee, enjoying the warmth.

"Alright, then. Well, I don't think I want to tell you what to do anymore." I said, sounding defeated. Jolteon suddenly appeared on the foot of my bed, laying down.

"No, Estel. You were... right. It was irresponsible for me to just go drinking like that, and what's worse, I overreacted because of the booze." She said, fluttering between making eye contact with me and the floor.

Jolteon suddenly picked his head up, staring at Nizibel with a slack jaw. "I don't believe it. A woman just admitted she was wrong." We both bolted looks at him. He suddenly laid his head back down, "I'll be good."

"Aside from that little outburst, I mean it. You've apologized for calling me names, and better yet, take the blame for my foolishness." She said, looking at me.

"Besides that," She said, locking eyes with me, "Thank you."

I smiled warmly at this, but could not find words to simply say, "You're welcome," or some sentimental shit like that.

The time passed, and Jolteon had fallen asleep. Nizibel lay her empty mug on the nightstand between the beds. She then removed part of the blanket, padding the place next to her on hers, motioning at me. I wove my eyebrow across my head, but removed myself from the bed's confines. I sat on the location next to the lady, where she suddenly crawled from the blanket, pulling herself close to me, whispering to me, "I really mean it. Thank you." She then pressed her lips against my cheek, and announced a light smooching sound as she pulled away.

She smiled at me as she pulled herself under the blanket for an afternoon nap. She then turned over, pulling the comforter close, and closed her eyes.

I turned over the cards, one by one, until none remained in my hand. On them were silly depictions of Pokemon, each numbered, but some wearing regal letters. Durante sat in the bakery's warmth, watching as each card was laid down in perfect succession: Three Aces, Two Queens.

He chuckled heartily, "I should've know, a full house suits you." He tossed his cards onto the table, showing two 6's, and gibberish otherwise. "It's that poker face of yours – It's rather good."

I smiled, looking around. The day grew weary, the late afternoon hour pulling the heartstrings of the homebound. I checked my watch, its face dictating the time to be 3:02 pm, queued prior to a deep stretch.

Durante piled up the cards and slid them into a box, where the flaps covered them and the whole closed shut tightly. He pulled up his pipe and puffed from it, staring at the intricate design inked into the back, made characterized by a Mr. Mime symbolizing the printing company. "That was a hell of a story, my boy." He chuckled softly, "I don't blame you for what you did, but I would have paid to see the look on that punk's face when you pulled the gun."

I leaned forward, listening to his voice. I took up a fork and used it to split off a piece of apple crumb cake, and hoisted it to my mouth. The cinnamon sensation was a taste to behold, but melded perfectly when chased by an iced mocha. "I'd say he went halfway to shitting himself, without waiting for an invitation."

Durante bellowed an old man laugh from beneath his mustache. He suddenly stood up, putting the playing cards into his apron pocket. He breathed for a moment, peering outside from behind wizened eyes. His pipe erupted in smoke, as did his mouth as he said, "It's stopped raining, that's a good sign at least." A small rumble of thunder could still be heard in the distance.

"But by the sound of that, we're not out of the woods yet." I said, rubbing my goatee.

"Oh, no. We'll never be out of the woods, not in this lifetime." He said, as a girl came up to him with a clipboard. He quickly scribbled a few lines, and she walked away. His pipe slowly churned with a mixture of smoke and breath, its smell of vanilla subtly marinating in the bakery's alluring odors of cinnamon and ginger.

"I wonder how long it'll take him." I suddenly said, checking my watch again, finding that very few minutes have passed.

"Oh, I wouldn't know. You can never tell with people like him. Could be a few minutes, could be a few days." The old man tapped his pipe against his chin.

"Papa," Said a voice from the rear. Durante suddenly turned and beheld his son, disposed behind apron and splatted with flour and batter in various places. "The workers would all like to go home," he paused for a moment, waving towards the rear, where several people stood, talking among themselves.

"Go ahead and tell them that they can head home, then. It has been a slow day, after all, and I do not blame them." Durante returned. As the young man walked away, he turned to me, "My son, Vanni. I told you of him yesterday." I crossed my arms, watching Vanni disappear into the rear room behind the counter.

"Seems like a nice fellow, appears to appeal in favor of the workers, rather than the business." I said, turning back to the old man.

"Indeed. He learned from me, and I feel that employees are at least this bakery's greatest asset. I would sell off this shop and everything in it before firing anyone in that kitchen." I nodded in agreement, standing beside him. Vanni suddenly reappeared behind the counter, speaking to Keiko, who counted money in the register. She nodded, and closed the drawer, and removed her apron. Vanni then made his way to us.

"I assume you are Blackheart. Father spoke heavily of you yesterday evening." Vanni extended his hand to me. I took it and the grip shook, before releasing.

"I am. Nice to meet you." I said, putting my hands into my pockets.

"I'd like to talk to you about what kind of options there are for computerizing." He said, pointing vaguely to a register behind him. Durante suddenly bellowed another laugh, clapping his hands as his pipe danced in his mouth.

"I saw that coming, son." He said, smiling. His son smiled, as he said, "Estel, I don't mind, go ahead and tell him what you know."

I looked around at the counter. "Well, being there are three terminals, I could install three touchscreen dumb terminals and run them all from a single server, which would make sales calculations a one-stop hassle."

Durante and Vanni looked at each other suddenly, then looked back at me. Vanni then exclaimed, "That sounds..." Which his father finished, "Expensive."

I shook my head, "Oh no, I could easily pull it off, parts and labor included, for $2000."

Vanni suddenly rubbed his chin. "Really?" He exclaimed, surprised. "See, Papa. I told you it wouldn't be that bad."

Durante looked at the young man. "And I told you that Blackheart wouldn't try to swindle you." He looked at me, smiling. "He's an honest man, and I feel like even I would do business with him."

Suddenly the front door burst open, where Nizibel and Jolteon poked in, out of breath. Vanni looked at them, shocked, but Durante and I simply looked around towards them, unprovoked by the outburst. Nizibel said between deep visible breaths, "Estel! That guy, Monty, he's-" I suddenly interjected, "I know, I know."

The two became puzzled. "If you know, why are you not doing anything about it?" Jolteon threw into the room.

Durante turned his attention to me, "I expect you'll be leaving now. Remember that my bakery is always open to you, so stop by anytime." He padded me on the shoulder, "I know you still don't need it, but good luck. Give him a little hell for me, too."

I turned to the two in the doorway after nodding to the old man. I pushed through into the cool air, where the clouds rolled by overhead and thunder could be heard approaching. "I anticipated that punk," I said, my breath rolling out in front of me as the bakery door closed. "He seemed too much like the type that would want revenge, so I laid out a contingency plan in case he came out."

Nizibel said, following me. "He's got Falkner on his side... Are you sure about this?" I replied, "Yeah. I've been expecting him for a while, after all." Jolteon and Nizibel followed me for a time, as I made my way to the Bar on 12th street, at the corner of the park. As I reached to open the door, I heard Monty's horrid voice from the side.

"There he is, Falkner! The guy that assaulted me!" I removed my hand from the door to see Falkner, the gym leader here in Violet, marching towards me with his hands in his overcoat pockets. His expression was somewhere between anger and disgust. In his wake, two other trainers from the Gym trailed closely behind, and Monty walked to the side, his left eye black and bruised heavily.

"You. Estel... Blackheart, by order of the Violet City gym and Violet City Human Police Department, you are hereby under arrest for assault and battery." Falkner held a pair of handcuffs towards me.

"Now hold on just a minute..." Nizibel immediately butt into the conversation. A few sparks jumped out of Jolteon, as he took a small step forward. I put my hand in front of both of the rebels. "Hold on, you two." They each turned their attention to me and their tension eased towards the man.

"I will gladly go quietly." I said, smiling at Falkner. "But in order for me to do so, I require that you have a talk about Monty with the owner of this establishment." My voice rang into the street as the door beside me slowly crept open, revealing John's haggard complexion. Through a pitted and scarred face, he gazed at the various faces exclaiming, "Why the hell are there so many assholes blocking my place of business?" He suddenly saw my face, then skirted to the side, beholding Falkner. "Oh, it's you two." He sighed heavily, scanning around. He pulled the door wide, allowing himself passage, then slid the door shut. The customers inside seemed oblivious to the events unfolding.

Falkner eyed the man wearily, adverting his gaze to me and back on a timer of a few seconds each pass. John pulled around to the lower side of the building, towards an alley leading to a door labeled "Office," giving clearance to Falkner to follow him. The gym leader signaled to his two lackeys to stay, as he pushed his hands into his pockets, and followed the proprietor. They disappeared into the doorway, leaving behind only a faint but recent memory of their existence.

"This is bullshit, you should just be arrested and thrown in jail." Monty suddenly burst out, the two gym lieutenants turning to him unexpectedly. One of them turned to him, "Monty, just shut up. The only reason Falkner decided to put this under gym jurisdiction was so that his old man wouldn't raise hell." The other nodded in agreement, "You're already on thin ice, you'd better watch yourself."

Monty's gleaming stare crossed paths with my own. We locked disapproving looks for a time, our very souls combating for superiority. The moment was slightly broken as Nizibel followed a notion from Falkner to enter the office. The Lieutenants each looked at the two of us, then suddenly at Jolteon, whose expression matched mine, but began to sweat as Jolteon's back sparked and jumped with electricity. He exchanged glares with the Spearow on Monty's shoulder, equally as impressive as the human counterparts. "Tense moment," the trainer to my left said. The statement had no effect on the power rising in each passing second. A great deal of time passed, but no change came from either side. Time slowly crept by, oozing through the deep freeze of baleful expressions exchanged in the small space. Falkner suddenly appeared from the alley, but no gaze was broken. Even as he was followed by Nizibel, who only looked at the ground, and John's arm wrapped around her.

"Monty." The staring contest came to an abrupt end. Monty stared at Falkner for a moment, "Well, are you gonna arrest this asshole, yet?" Monty seemed displeased towards Falkner, but the man returned the favor. "Monty, shut the hell up." The punk became taken aback by the statement. "Excuse me, but did you just tell me to shut the hell up?"

"Yes, I did. Now shut the hell up before I get really pissed." Falkner demanded, glaring. His eyes fell to me, as he eyed me up and down. "Both of you, come with me." We descended to the head of the street, where a large SUV sat, waiting. Falkner climbed into the passenger seat, as the three gym trainers assembled into the middle seat, facing the rear. Nizibel, Jolteon, and I situated onto the rear seat, after I shook hands with John.

The massive vehicle roared and rumbled, then pulled into traffic and began a journey. The vehicle was blanketed in silence, save for the sounds of a radio station emitting from the interior walls, and a CB radio spurting out nonsense at random intervals. Various glances were given and received, but not a word was said. Jolteon sat in the floor, keeping his composure as best he could.

The vehicle suddenly came to a stop, where Falkner exited. The door swung open, revealing new scenery: The gym appeared a domed Colosseum, where flying would take ease. The overcast skies overhead dulled the texture of the world, engulfing the magnificent trees, walkways, and fountains leading to the glass doors. But Falkner did not lead us to the front door, as the two lieutenants exited our scene into their own. We were lead to a building perched to the side, with glass ceiling, alabaster-white walls, and a small, efficient square shape.

"In the primary building, we hold exhibitions for gym badges officially. This is our training hall, where we hone our skills in inter-gym skirmishes." Falkner explained as we moved out of view of the road. The building appeared a high-school gymnasium, being only 3 stories tall. Dwarfed by the primary gym building, the small training hall only held room for a single battlefield. The roof was supported by exposed trusses at the seams where glass panes met. The rear of the building lead nowhere, as only forest lie beyond. Massive speakers were wired around the room, and lined to a control box on the left wall. The walls around it and on the other side were lined with windows, allowing natural light to flood the arena.

"What's going on here, Leader?" Monty burst out. Falkner stopped in his tracks, near the middle of the arena.

"Monty, I regret to inform you, that after delegation, you will hereby be expelled from the gym's membership and not allowed appeal." Falkner threw the punk an icy stare. "Have your locker cleaned out before tomorrow."

Monty grew angry. "What? This is a fucking outrage, give me one good fucking reason!"

"Abuse of authority, crimes against other citizens including organized harassment, solicitation, and attempted rape, along with neglect of duties." Falkner folded his arms at the young man. "Failure to accept punishment will result in legal action."

Monty became furious. "Well, you're... Uh, well..." His rage made his words jumble together, making him incomprehensible in speaking.

"Monty. As your last ordered duty, you are ordered to have a match against Mr. Blackheart, whom you have committed the worst of your crimes against." Falkner paused, as Monty's rage subsided slightly. "This is not a redemption for the gym, but for yourself. Learn from this, Monty." Monty suddenly threw a glance at me, as I pulled a solid white Pokeball with a hint of gray clouding, grinning slightly.

"Alright. I can do that." Monty said, moving to the other side of the arena. Falkner stepped to the side, aligning himself to the referee box. Monty readied a ball of his own, plain red with white.

Nizibel sat on a bench on the sidelines as the two lieutenants from before entered and sat next to her. More trainers from the gym huddled inward, swarming around Nizibel. Jolteon moved to my side. He sat down, "Estel, let's give him hell."

"Yeah, let's do that." I said, gripping the ball.

Falkner announced in a booming voice, "Ladies and gentlemen of the Violet City Johto League Official Pokemon Gym, this will be a no-holds grudge match between gym trainer Monty Fairday and challenger Estel Blackheart. The rules will be as follows: Any type is accepted, there are no restrictions on what Pokemon may be used. Each trainer is limited to 3 Pokemon. The first trainer to lose 3 Pokemon is the Loser. Items are not permitted, and trainer-used devices such as scanning tools are limited to 3 uses. Substitutions are not legal. Are the contestants clear on the rules?"

I thought quickly. I decided that my purple ball shouldn't be used here, so that leaves me with the one in my hand, Jolteon and Flareon. _Flareon got to see that last fight, but Jolteon may be overkill against a flying specialist. Therefore, Jolteon will be my last resort, so should the first go down, Flareon is up next._ "Aye," I said, rearranging the Pokeballs on my belt.

Monty replied, "Yeah" without looking away from my stare. His hand fondled a ball on his belt, ready to be thrown.

Falkner pulled his hands high into the air. "The contestants will now reveal their starting Pokemon, starting with Monty. Do not attack until I give the word to start."

Monty ripped the ball from his belt, chucking the object into the arena. The ball opened posthaste, and as the white light cleared, the form of a Swellow took up the space on the arena floor. "Monty opens with Swellow, known for its ease-of-training and wide variety of moves. How will challenger Blackheart respond?"

I tossed the ball in my hand, and it landed on the floor with a soft clunk, then opened with a puff of black smoke and a bright white light. As the light dispersed, Nizibel expected Eevee to appear but instead in this place, she saw something else.

Falkner announces, "Blackheart responds with an Umbreon, and it looks raring to go!" Umbreon's rings glowed brightly, his eyes were glossy, and the black of his coat emitted what appeared to be a black sooty smoke very close to the surface.

"His Eevee evolved! I wonder what happened?" Nizibel said, as the trainers around her conversed. One leaned towards her, "What do you mean? It looks like it's been an Umbreon for a long time."

She turned to him, "It was an Eevee just yesterday." Another trainer butted in, "So that ball he used...?"

She nodded. "Estel uses Oneiric Balls exclusively. Sometimes called "Mood ring" balls because they change color based on the Pokemon inside them. A moment ago, if you noticed, it was a white ball with what looked like black smoke starting to tint the ball. That means it was an Eevee so recently that the ball hasn't adapted to the change from Normal to Dark yet."

Falkner eyed the two Pokemon, who each took a stance towards each other. Umbreon's stance widened, as Swellow's wings spread slightly, as though it was ready to fly. The leader announced, "Begin!"

Monty made the first move. "Swellow! Fly!" The bird erupted into the air, pushing a mass of air out from under it. "Your Umbreon was a bad choice. He can't touch me at range, because Umbreon specialize in physical attacks." I grinned, "Maybe you should do more research, then." Swellow circled above, as Monty crossed his eyebrows.

"Umbreon! Shadow Ball, then..." My next command was muffled by the sound of the Shadow Ball pulling in a mass of negative energy from the environment. The shot sailed towards Swellow, who stopped short of its path and began to dive. A second shadow ball caused it to barrel roll out of the way and take its eyes from Umbreon. As it continued downward, Umbreon had vanished. Without warning, it reappeared behind the bird Pokemon and hurled its body into the projectile. Umbreon then stood, triumphant as Swellow landed with ragdoll-like physics against the ground ahead.

"Wait, what just happened?" Monty exclaimed, shocked.

Nizibel spoke up. "That's Estel's battle style for you. He ordered Umbreon to use two Shadow Balls, aimed at the same place. He then had it use Faint Attack, which is why it seemed to have vanished from view when your Swellow looked away. You and it were so focused on dodging the Shadow Balls that you neglected to remember that Umbreon is almost always a physical attack user, and got pummeled when the realization came crashing down." She crossed her arms under her breasts, then straightened her glasses.

I pointed at him, "Your move, punk." He became angry, shouting, "Swellow! Agility, then Aerial Ace!" Swellow pulled itself from the dust on the floor into a spinning spiral towards flight. As it exited the maneuver, it climbed to the ceiling of the arena, where it turned and dove at blinding speed. "Umbreon. Stand your ground." The Swellow closed in quickly, but vanished suddenly." I scanned the room in great depth, as did Umbreon. I counted to three, then shouted, "Umbreon! Flash!" Umbreon's rings became bright, as the room became flooded in powerful light. The Swellow veered off-course, slamming into the wall at the opposite side. The attack then continued as it bounced from the wall, and talons from the bird arced in front of Umbreon. The darkling took the hit, but barely took damage.

Monty shouted with glee, "I bet your Umbreon is hurting after that."

Nizibel interjected, "You'd be wrong there." She pointed at the Umbreon in the ring. "Look closer." Monty inspected the dark-type, seeing no visible damage or even a single hair out of place.

"What? I know that made a direct hit! It's illegal to use an X Defend in this match! Falkner, disqualify this..." Monty was cut short.

"There have not been any items used during this battle." Falkner stated, remaining calm.

"Bullshit! Then how do you explain that shit?" Monty exclaimed, pointing at Umbreon.

"Calm down and listen," Jolteon suddenly threw at him, then handed the conversation over to me.

"Umbreon is known as an Eevee evolution that almost exclusively uses physical attacks. This isn't because his physical attack stat is really high, it's because that's all there is to choose from with Dark-type attacks. There's a few in other regions of the country, but here in Johto, that's all you get. Umbreon is actually the defensive-specialist of the Eevee evolutions. His defense and special defense stats are the highest among the Eevees, making him perfect for the senario you just put him in. You launched an attack that never fails, however... The attack relies on speed and build-up. You used agility beforehand to increase how fast your Swellow can accelerate to, but that lead to your downfall. Because he is not used to the speed normally, I used Flash to surprise him and make him mess up. When he hit the wall, he lost all his momentum and the attack was severely weakened. Now, add that in with Umbreon's superior defense, and the attack did next to nothing." I explained. The trainers of the gym applauded and cheered, as Monty became ever more frustrated.

"Fine! Swellow! Fly again!" He shouted, but the bird struggled to move its left wing. "Swellow! Do you hear me? FLY, DAMMIT!" The bird's wing did not open, as its face was twisted in agony. "You dumbass!" Nizibel shouted at him. "Swellow's wing was broken when it smashed against the wall, don't force it to do something it can't do!" Monty looked at the Swellow with rage. "You useless piece of shit! How dare you do this to me? I'm your master!"

"Umbreon. Use Bite." Umbreon dashed forward, pulling its jaws apart and then clamping, landing its sharp teeth into the bird's neck. The bird's futile struggle was harsh at first, but then lessened and stilled, until Umbreon pinned it, putting it to sleep. Umbreon let go, then pulled the bird's broken wing to its chest gently. It then trotted back to its side of the arena, waiting patiently.

Monty ripped the ball from his belt, as a beam connected to the fainted Pokemon, causing it to vanish. He breathed heavily, his frustration showing through.

"First round, Estel Blackheart. Monty, please select a replacement or forfeit the match." Falkner said, ringing a giant 1 on the score board behind him on my side.

"I'm getting to it," the disgruntled bastard said. He pulled a new ball from his belt, and released a Skarmory from inside.

"Monty Fairday chooses his most powerful, Skarmory." Falkner then raises his hand, dropping it similar to a flag stance. "Round 2: Begin."

I flew off the bat. "Umbreon, use Flash." His rings glowed brightly, and in the sphere of light, I thought quickly, _Umbreon is going strong, but this could get ugly. Steel-type take half damage from Dark and Ghost attacks, so Umbreon may not be able to pull this off. On top of that, he's seen all of Umbreon's attacks now, so he'll see any normal strategy I throw at him coming. To the side, Nizibel conversed with the trainers. _

"Monty is our lowest rank, but that Skarmory is pretty strong." One said, as Nizibel turned to her. "Why is that? Does it have something special about it?" The female trainer replied, "No, it just has sheer rank advantage, it's a rank 39." Thirty-nine isn't that great, but it beats the hell out of Umbreon's 36. This isn't good.

The Skarmory suddenly burst through the flash of light, pushing Steel Wing against Umbreon with precision. I was caught off-guard by this, as Umbreon flew to the side, but landed on his feet.

"Problem?" Monty said, grinning. "This Skarmory has the Pokemon power, Keen Eye. That Flash of yours won't work on it."

I thought quickly, "Umbreon. Alpha Stance." Umbreon overcharged a Shadow Ball and Hurled it at the opponent. In the overpowering violet glow, he vanished with another Faint Attack. Skarmory blocked the Shadow Ball, but took damage from the impact and pressure surrounding it. As it used its wings to form a shield, Umbreon appeared underneath the steel-clad creature, biting its talon with ferocity. It let go, and slid away behind it. It began to charge another Shadow Ball, but Skarmory used Wing Attack to send the Umbreon flying away. He luckily landed on his feet again, but was not making progress in damaging his opponent.

"Skarmory. Finish it, now." Monty said, smirking smugly.

Skarmory faced the Umbreon, as the two braced for an impact. "Umbreon. Faint Attack." Umbreon vanished again, but before reappearing, met a Steel Wing that slammed it to the ground, unconscious.

I sighed deeply. "You did well, Umbre..." I began, holding out his Pokeball. Skarmory suddenly slammed another Steel Wing into the lifeless but breathing body. "Hey!" I shouted, lowering the ball, unable to return Umbreon.

"What's wrong? Doesn't seem to fun when you're the one getting punched." Monty said, grinning.

"That's enough, Monty. Call off your Skarmory. You won this match." Falkner said, glaring.

"Why should I? I think this is fun." Monty said, as Skarmory readied to Peck.

"Stop. Now." Falkner said, but to no end. The Skarmory's beak hurled downward, puncturing the Umbreon's skin, as a red fluid burst out.

"MONTY!" Falkner shouted, angrily.

"Fine." Skarmory suddenly stepped away, standing before his master.

I stood perfectly still, as Jolteon stood next to me.

"Nizibel." My voice suddenly lost its airy appeal. The color drained from my face, as I held it low, the shadows from the lights overhead hiding my expression. "Take Umbreon." She suddenly got up from the bench, the other trainers in awe.

She rushed to the ring, and pulled Umbreon from the floor. She picked him up, holding him close as she rushed to the side again.

"Estel." Nizibel said, not turning around while laying the bleeding Umbreon onto the bench. "Scumbags like him don't deserve mercy."

I looked towards Monty, his face gleaming with delight. Falkner looked at me sorrowfully, but said, "Challenger Estel, please present..."

"Shut up, Falkner." I said demandingly. My voice was low and commanding, as though hell itself had risen from its almighty depths.

"Jolteon." I said, "You're up."

He took a step forward, "Yeah." He made his way into the ring.

Shiro and Kit ran into the door, out of breath. "We came as soon as we heard, are you two alright?" Kit panted. Nizibel pointed to the ring, where the two beheld Jolteon entering the battle.

"What's up with that Jolteon?" A trainer from the gym asked.

"Yeah, he seems different... Yeah, he can talk but I mean different... Weird." Another said.

"You have no idea." Kit said, catching his breath. Shiro showed the same expression, scanning the gym.

"I think we all need to watch from outside," Kit said.

"Why is that?" A trainer butted in.

"_That_'s why." Shiro replied, pointing at Jolteon.

Jolteon's fur was completely upright. His yellow tint became that of gold, his white collar became that of silver. Needled out, sparks flew from his body, and traveled up his legs from the ground. The sparks grew large, then massive. Jolteon growled steadily, his eyes fixated on the Skarmory, somewhat proud of its bloody beak. I said not a word, as jolts of electricity jumped all the way down from the 32 foot ceiling, contacting Jolteon's body. The lights each dimmed, and some blacked out for a moment as each jolt traveled through the air. Falkner's eyes signaled a sense of fear as his throat filled with frogs and sweat beaded down his neck. Monty's smugness turned to a cold, collapsing disposition aimed towards horror. Even the Skarmory took a step back from the battle-ready Jolteon.

The trainers, lead by Shiro and Kit, each hurried outside, as though death followed them. They each and all peered into the windows, waiting to see the spectacle. Nizibel nursed the hurt Umbreon just outside the door, applying bandages.

"Jolteon. Let's begin." I said, raising my arms out to my sides. I then closed my eyes, as Monty and Falkner eyed me suspiciously.

Falkner raised his flag hand, staring at the Jolteon. "Round Three. Begin!" Before Falkner could add punctuation and cross his T's, I flicked my right wrist, sending my hand forward quickly. Jolteon suddenly appeared in front of the Skarmory, facing towards me with his hind legs reared. The impact of the Double Kick was so intense that the bird's steel body was crumpled and dented inward, as the Skarmory's heavy body slammed into the wall behind its master, cracking the solid construction. The bird landed on the ground with all its weight, causing a small crack in the ground, displaying the mass that Jolteon moved at such high speed. The electric-type came to formation in front of me, ready for another round.

Monty had no idea what had happened. His best was disabled before he realized what happened. He became shocked, stunned, and his spirit was eradicated.

"What... Just... Happened?" Falkner said, almost as amazed as Monty and the other trainers from the gym.

Kit leaned into the window, "Estel, that's what!" He threw his fist into the air, "I knew that Jolteon was something else! Look at that!" He cheered and laughed, throwing hoops and hollers.

I stood, not the slightest bit phased by the moment. I reformed my open arm stance.

The moment was tense, as the Skarmory retreated to its ball. "That was a lucky shot, nothing more." Monty reassured himself, not believing the feat of strength that occurred moments before. "I've got something that'll fix your little red wagon.

He threw his final ball, "Let's go, Sandslash!" His prophecy came true, as a Sandslash erupted from the ball's confines.

"Take this, you asshole!" He shouted, as the Sandslash lurched forward, "Mud Slap!" The floor beneath the Pokemon temporarily became viscus like mud, as he dipped his claw into it and slung the goop forward.

I threw my left hand straight up, pointing my semi-open palm at the ceiling with my fingers spread. Without delay, Jolteon's speed cause an afterimage to appear, finalized by a THOO sound. The mud passed through the image as though it were a ghost. Monty looked all around, searching for the missing Pokemon. I remained perfectly still. Nizibel, without looking away from her triage, simply stated, "Look up." As all the people present other than myself or her tilted their heads back, now viewing Jolteon upside down, his paws magnetized so that he may stand on the metal trusses without problems.

Monty shouted, "How the hell did you get up there?" To the yellow Pokemon.

Jolteon replied, "I jumped. I was just too fast for you to see it."

Monty became frustrated again, "Dammit! Shut up you fucking faggot!" He then shouted, "Sandslash! Sandstorm!" The arena's air became replaced with sand particles circling wildly. In the confusion, Monty could not see what was happening. "Subside the storm!" The sands quickly died down, and fell back to the ground. He smirked, seeing that Jolteon was no longer on the trusses. He looked to the ground, however, and found a horror: Jolteon was unscathed.

"You are the most annoying shithead I've ever seen! How did you get out of that one? I bet you cheated!" Monty yelled.

I remained silent. My hands were in new locations now than before. Jolteon spoke up, "Estel instructed me to generate an electro-magnetic field of negative polarity. The sandstorm you created came from the arena, which is primarily supported by metal. The iron in the sand you used stayed away from me because of physics."

"When did he instruct you? He hasn't said a word yet!" Monty threw into the arena, becoming more and more angry.

"Yes, I'd like to know this myself." Falkner said, puzzled.

"Estel and I share a very close bond. We've been together for 15 years now, going on 16." Jolteon smiled, staring down the punk and his Sandslash. "We have trained this way for at least 10. You could say we just know what each other is thinking."

"That's not an answer, you jackass!" Monty insulted.

"It's the only answer you're getting, though." Jolteon replied. Sparks began flying from his fur again, connecting to random bits of metallic sand around him.

I then waved both hands in various directions. Jolteon then began charging negative ions, pulling electricity from everywhere. He then launched a powerful Thunderbolt at the unsuspecting Sandslash.

"Now you've lost it! Or did you forget that ground-type is immune to electric-type?" The attack made contact, as Sandslash began convulsing about violently. The attack ended, showing vast damage to the ground-type. "What? How is this possible?"

"I'll answer this one." I said, opening my eyes. "There is a common conception that ground are completely immune to electrical attacks. This is not true, as electricity still flows through the ground, just much slower." Monty appeared confused. "Yeah, so?"

I continued, "Ground-type Pokemon are not totally immune. They simply have a vast resistance to it. Normal electric-types can't get through the resistance, but my Jolteon here can produce so many volts to push current that even ground-types can't stand up to his attacks."

Monty's face lost all color. "So what you're saying is..." I finished his sentence, "You were fucked from the get-go."

Nizibel burst into the door, "Yeah, which means you're about to get what's coming to you!"

Monty looked at her, "Shut up, whore."

I suddenly twitched. My eyes narrowed, "Nizi is not a whore."

"Fine, she's a bitch, whatever." Monty said, scowling.

"I'm reeeeally starting to dislike you." I said, disgusted.

"What are you gonna do about it, then? Send your little bitch-slave after me?" Monty said, smirking.

"Monty, that's enough." Falkner said, glancing towards him.

"Monty. Nizibel was right about one thing." I said.

"And what's that?" He said, his smirk fading.

"You don't deserve mercy." I punctuated the sentence with a series of hand movements.

Jolteon suddenly grew sadistic with two simple words exhaled from his diaphragm: "With pleasure." He closed his eyes and widened his stance, aiming towards the Sandslash.

"Nizibel. Falkner. I suggest you two get to a safe distance." Nizibel looked at Jolteon, whose back began to spark violently as a low, rumbling growl crawled from his throat.

"I cannot leave my post, you know tha-" Falkner's statement was interrupted by Nizibel grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out the door swiftly. She then shouted to the trainers at the side frantically, "Close those windows! Now!" The windows slowly began to close in confusion, but she ran down the line slamming them all shut.

"What's that ...thing doing?" Monty exclaimed as Jolteon's body began to glow dimly, and large bolts of electricity began raining towards him from the walls in the room. Up from the ground, even, traveling up his paws and legs, sparks and bolts began swirling around. The static electricity in the room then began to cause a small breeze, but through the roof—that was where the real show took place. Through the glass roof, one could see the clouds swirling in a spiral motion, truncating directly over Jolteon. Monty became anxious seeing this, fearing this could be the end. Massive bolts of lightning from the storm crashed into the roof and traveled through, feeding into Jolteon. Jolteon opened his eyes, then his mouth. Before the gaping hole, he formed a ball of pure electricity made from the storm, the room, the air, and everywhere else he could gather from. The ball became larger, its form defined by a very bright halogen-like light. It spun rapidly, making it both dizzying and beautiful to behold. The spikes on his back fed into it, creating an arcing effect over him. The storm's spiraling clouds compacted overhead, as though the magnetism was pulling them in over the grand distance.

"I told you: People like you don't deserve mercy." I then said aloud, "Jolteon. Hyper Cannon."

Jolteon's mouth then glowed brightly, suddenly firing a powerful beam through the ball of condensed electric power. The resulting blast was magnificent, its path not to be deterred by any obstacle. The massive roar of power was deafening, and blindingly bright. The attack punched through the wall with no problem whatsoever, engulfing Monty and his Sandslash. The attack then continued into the forest, tearing a massive hole in its path.

In the aftermath, the cone carved from the floor was pillared with smoke. Trainers flooded into the arena, struck with awe so powerful that some could not stand. Jolteon panted heavily, peering down the path of utter destruction. I strutted across the room, waving my hands to clear the thin and wispy smoke. An island was created from diverted blast, perfect around where Monty was standing. He laid in the zone, unconscious but unharmed. His Sandslash lay atop him, down for the count.

I walked by Jolteon, picking him up from his weary state. I held him in my arms, calmly and quietly making my way to the door. Nizibel followed on light step, carrying the injured Umbreon.

__ Journal Entry #6, Overcast, March 30, 1052.__

__ Today was eventful. I was able to make up to Nizibel, whom I don't think I could make this pilgrimage without. I found her cornered by Monty and his thugs, which honestly didn't sit well with me at all. I had no idea how I was going to deal with the situation, and just flew by the seat of my pants until I had her in hand. It worked out well enough, as the gang was broken up. I anticipated that Monty would seek revenge in some way, most likely in the form of legal action, as he tends to abuse his power, being a gym member. I was right to contact John, the owner of the 12____th____ street Bar, who shares a dislike for Monty and his gang with several locals. After Falkner talked with them of this, Falkner then decided to expel Monty from the gym without appeal, and waged a battle between me and him in order to teach the punk a lesson. I feel as though I was sufficient in this.__

__ Cheers!__


	6. Chapter 6

**6: Carry On, My Wayward Son**

I stepped out the door into a day wrought with rain, falling from a sky clouded with its own misery. I cannot ignore the overbearing warmth, as though a rainforest lay atop me. I gave a hearty salute to my mother, who stood at the door, smiling. I then raced off, leaping fences and bounding over livestock, with Jolteon at my side, mirroring my movements without hesitation. I was only fourteen at the time, my mother still 3 years from her grave, and my father 3 years from betrayal. I couldn't name a happier time in my life, but it all seemed to be growing to a close, like watching an iron maiden close its doors around me, but though I had eyes, I was a blind child. I waved violently at my father, who took shelter under a cover, speaking to Professor Elm. Not to be deterred by my umbrella and raincoat pelted by the constant flutter of raindrops, I delivered myself swiftly along the path. I then suddenly stopped, noticing a soft crunch under my foot. I lifted it to discover granules of clay, sopping up a long-forgotten oil spill.

"How long do you suppose they're gonna leave this here?" I asked, grinning at Jolteon.

"Long enough to mop up the damn rain, I hope." He said, shaking his body of moisture. He moved towards it, disturbing it with his paw, ransacking the perfect placement underfoot.

"It's been like this a while, hasn't it?" I said without warning, looking about at the water's cascade over the town.

"Yeah, no shit, the oil was gone months ago." Jolteon said, ruffling the clay granules.

"Not that." I stated, turning towards him but looking into the distance. "I mean the town."

"New Bark? It's alright, but what do you mean?" Jolteon returned.

"Nothing amazing happens here. It's like, I don't know, like something _should_ happen but it won't. Like it refuses to." I said, squinting. "It's felt that way to me for a long time."

"What makes you feel that way?" Jolteon said, turning his head up to look at me.

"I'm not sure. It's just that... New Bark is a rural community. We never move ahead. Take this for example," I said, pointing to the ground where the granules lay. "As soon as the threat of turning over a truck or causing an accident was gone, no one else thought it was necessary to remove this mess from the asphalt." The rain poured down, as Jolteon took cover under my umbrella, shaking the moisture from his fur.

"I never thought about it. You've got a point, though." Jolteon said, pulling his body still.

"When was the last time this place got a new resident?" I said, looking around. "Even I don't remember. The only thing people here leave for is to make deliveries of wheat or vegetables. The only thing they show up for is to see Professor Elm or visit family." I looked up towards the scientific laboratory. Its windmill sat still, in the absence of moving air. I turned and continued walking towards Nizibel's house.

"It seems like every year is the same here. What's the point of making a living if you don't have a living to make?" I said, shaking my head. "The world keeps turning, but the people here, all 100 of them, make up a farming community. Nothing else. We refuse to turn with the rest of the world because this is all we'll know, and at this rate, all we'll ever know. It's almost a little sad, isn't it?"

"You're right. New Bark is the only town without an organized Government. Everyone here just came here, built a house, and put together a life around it. But there's one thing you're missing." Jolteon said, looking up at me.

"Oh yea? What's that?" I replied.

"Everyone here is happy." Jolteon returned.

I chuckled slightly. "You've got a point, but now I have a question for you."

Jolteon seemed taken aback. "Go ahead."

"Define happy." I said, my face falling. He suddenly looked towards the ground, unable to answer.

"Happiness is here, I can't deny that. It's actually a very idyllic little neighborhood. Everyone knows everyone else, we all have reason to protect our own, but in the end, what does it all lead towards? Is there an ultimate goal?" I said, lost in thought, "Or, does there even need to be a goal?" I stopped again. "But that's just a redundant question. It leads right back to the fact that New Bark doesn't move forward." I began walking once more, Jolteon directly on my heels. He trotted along, listening to my words. "And that leads me back to that odd feeling. Nothing amazing happens here. At 5 o'clock, all the workers and farmers in the fields will go inside, and by 6, dinner in every household will be served. At 8 o'clock, every household takes turns bathing, then at 10, bedtime." I pondered for a moment, then continued, "Then everyone wakes up at 6 in the morning, and starts all over with breakfast, then the fields, then lunch, then back to the fields."

"So where does that odd feeling come into play?" Jolteon asked.

"I just feel like there's something that's going to happen, but hasn't yet. Something that at least tries to break the monotony." I said, as we reached Nizibel's house. It sat across from an elderly couple's residence, which little did I know, would become the house I purchased after the two pass away. The house my parents own now becomes property of the Cherrygrove City Bank. After mother passes away, several liens against the house in her name go to father's name, who abandons the house. I unfortunately did not receive insurance benefits for mother's death until after the house had been seized. I used the money, however, to place a down payment on the elderly couple's home.

I came to the front porch of Nizibel's home. I laid the umbrella aside the door, and rid myself of the wet parka. I then sighed, going over everything recently said in my mind. I opened the door, as a draft of air flowed inward. Jolteon slid into the door as it was opening, but as I crossed the threshold, I peered forward, and stopped where my tracks lay.

My eyes and muscles came to a standstill, and Nizibel's vision met mine. We both froze, one just as shocked as the other. My eyes then traveled downward, finding a bare pair of D-cup breasts (she was rather well endowed, even at 13) frosted with freckles, and further down, a slightly fuzzy space between her hips and legs not covered by material or otherwise. I suddenly realized the gravity of the situation, glancing back to her face, now glowing crimson with anger.

My mind flew, contemplating possible solutions to diffuse my looming death. Then, as though flipping a switch, I became calm. I closed the door behind me and stated, "Sup, titties?" I failed. Miserably.

There came a rumbling, faint at first, but then grew with intensity and volume. It started in lungs and erupted through the vocal chords: A female voice was found. In anger it spewed its flame and fire into creation, and somewhere lost in the rampage, the words, "Get the hell out!" were hidden.

I leaped into a second life, where I drug the first lifeless body from its coffin, out the door and onto the porch in one smooth motion. Not much caused pure, unadulterated fear to boil from me, but when it came to Nizibel... I can safely say that she's on that very short list.

For a time, it was silent, as I felt sweat bead down my forehead. Its cooling action did not last, as another would soon follow. I recalled the recent memory of her nude body and felt a warmth, somewhere down below... But that's a story for another time. Right now, all I could think of was, "Who's going to give the eulogy at my funeral?" Then quickly amending, "Will there be enough pieces _left_ to _have_ a funeral?" But as my fears came to pinnacle, the door behind me slid open, as Nizibel poked her head through the gap, glasses sitting on her flattered freckles, canvased over red. This time, however, that red was of embarrassment, not of anger.

She startled me from behind, "You can come in now." But I replied, "DON'T MURDER ME! I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!"

I calmed instantly, seeing the bashfulness in her expression. She opened the door wide, allowing me entry. "As much as murdering you would please me, I have nowhere to hide the body, so just come on in." Her glasses fell down her face, as she held her towel close to her body, looking away from me. As I passed her, I stopped and stooped, examining the redness of her face. She looked away, trying to conceal her fluster. "What?" She asked, holding the towel wrapped around her as tightly as she could.

"The red in you really brings out the blue in your eyes." I said, mockingly. "Besides that, you're cute when you're flushed."

"Just shut up and go sit down." She said, aggravated.

I chuckled as I maneuvered through the foyer and into the living room. I flipped over the couch, and landed next to Jolteon, who was already asleep.

Nizibel closed and locked the door, making sure the door would not open readily. "So, have you never heard of knocking?" She perched behind the couch, hiding her body below its bulk.

"Don't see why I should, maybe I'll get another treat if I keep barging in." I said, grinning widely.

"You're really trying to annoy me, aren't you?" She said through a thick layer of nihilistic sadism.

"Maybe I'll bring a camera next time." I said, turning my head towards her. Her expression changed to match her tone of voice. She appeared ready to douse me in flame-laced breath at any moment.

"Besides..." I said, watching her eyebrows twitch, "This makes us even." She became quickly dismissive.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said, turning away.

"Last summer." I said, grinning. "Difference is, I wasn't..."

"Afraid to show it off." She finished, eyes half-closed. "I remember clearly, thank you."

"I didn't hear any objections then, and I don't hear any now." I said, my voice throwing sarcasm.

"Maybe I don't object." She said, turning towards me, grinning with a mocking flavor.

My face fell. I had suddenly fallen on the other side of the table. I then said only, "Camera."

Her face finally fell to match mine as I finished, "Maybe I'll set it as my desktop background."

She then stood up, annoyed. "Fine," she said, grabbing the location where the towel folded in on itself. "You want another look that bad?" She then pulled both sides apart, showing her nude self to me directly. As quickly as she had the towel apart, I had pulled my phone from my pocket. As the towel reached its apex of width, a picture was snapped.

In her shock, she dropped the towel. She was stunned for a moment, as though the flash had paralyzed her.

"I wonder how much I can get for this?" I said, rubbing my chin. "Nah, fuck that. I'll set it as my background and claim that you're my fuck buddy."

She then pulled the towel up, wrapped herself accordingly, her eyes hidden by some dark shade looming on her brow.

"Ooooh, look, I even got the 'junction' in there, too. Nice!" I leaned back on the couch to find Nizibel staring down at me. "Seriously, though, have you ever thought about shaving? I prefer clean girls."

"You piece of shit! I'm gonna kill you!" She said, flailing her arms, as I removed myself from the couch, laughing.

In her flailing, the towel came loose again. She quickly grabbed it, her face becoming red once more. She then leered at me, as she made her way to the steps, towards her room on the second floor. "You follow me, and I'll kill you."

As she ascended, I shouted, "Not if I _pork_ you first, you won't." She stopped for a moment, but continued up.

"I wish you would pork her. She acts like she needs it." Jolteon suddenly said.

"I dunno. She's pretty damned cute. I wouldn't mind hitting that." I replied.

"I wouldn't know. I'm not into humans." He said, laying back down.

Nizibel bounced down the steps, now wrapped in proper clothing befitting the season: A baby doll tee and breezy skirt. She ran her fingers deeply into her hair, straightening the integrity. As she landed on bare feet, she adjusted her glasses and peered directly at me through the lenses.

"Seriously, you shithead, have you ever heard of knocking when entering someone else's house?" She said, keeping her temper down. She padded her skirt as she sat beside me, crossing her legs.

"I didn't realize I'd need to," I said, calmly, "Seeing how I've never known that you like to walk around ass naked." I fiddled with Jolteon's ear as he slept, causing him to reflex in twitching it.

"It's hot today, okay? I wanted to stay cool." She said, looking the other way, hiding her face.

"Well, then I'll know next time its 72 degrees outside because of the rain." I said, fanning myself in a mocking gesture.

"I thought you'd gone with Mom and Laine to get groceries." She said, leering a hole into the wall away from me. "Besides," She continued, turning towards me, "You should feel sorry for me, that was almost traumatic for a fragile little girl like me." She made a pouting face, attempting to victimize her.

"Don't gimme that shit, princess. You've seen me..." I began, but was interrupted with her voice, "It's different when a boy sees a girl!"

"Not _that _different in this situation..." I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" She said, strikingly.

"Nothing..." I feigned.

She cupped her breasts in her hands, then wrapped her arms around them. "I didn't enjoy that at all, thank you."

I could tell she misheard me. That's actually a good thing, to be honest. I stopped her, "I bet you enjoyed the hell out of it."

"Just shut up. _Please._" She stated directly to me, leering.

"Anyway, why did you come over? Did you plan it?" She said, accusingly.

"Not at all, I just wanted to use my laptop that you never seem to want to give back." I said, in a smart-alack tone.

"Don't lie to me." She suddenly interjected. My curiosity was just as suddenly piqued.

"You came because you have something you want to talk about... I can see it in your eyes." She voiced sinerely.

I sighed deeply. "Honestly, it didn't really come up until the way here. At first, all I was coming for was the laptop. But, you're right." I said, as she crossed her arms over her crossed legs.

"What's up?" She said, pulling the hair from her face.

"As I told Jolteon outside, I feel like something wants to happen. Some big event that's going to seem earthshattering here in our little hamlet." I said, staring off into space. I lightly scratched Jolteon's head, just behind the left ear. "It just feels like..."  
>"Nothing happens here." She said, rubbing her thigh with one hand. "I know the feeling actually, because I've thought about it before." She paused for a moment, contemplating the fine smoothness of her thigh. "I personally felt the way you do now when my Dad and Sister left to live in Hoenn. At this point, I haven't seen them so long, it feels like they're not my father or sibling anymore. Like they don't exist."<p>

"They left when you were 4, if I remember." I said, thinking back. "Yeah. That's right. I had only just received my Eevee egg when they vanished."

She tried to smile, but the smile faded quickly. "I don't miss them, because I don't remember them. Tyz was only 2 when Dad took her, so that she wouldn't remember the family they both had. I only remember that him and Mom were having an argument, but I was scared so I ran to your house. Your Dad tried to step in, but if I remember..."

"He only ended up with a black eye." I remember that.

"I think your feeling may be similar to mine, but... I don't know. I'm not you." She said, standing. She then moved from the arm of the sectional couch to the cushion next to me, where I sat in the middle. She padded her skirt, then sat down next to me, holding my free arm. "I just hope its a false alarm. This town can't take much more."

As she laid her head against my shoulder, all I could think was, "_No, this feeling is too strong. I can't ignore it as a passing bad feeling."_ But I didn't have the heart to tell her. My fears, beliefs, and worries manifested in this sole feeling. But, what I didn't know is the outcome. It was only a brief 3 years, as Nizibel and I saw love for ourselves with other people. I touched the lips of 3 women in that time, but couldn't find the right feeling. She touched the hearts of 2 men, but both of her relationships ended with me patting her shoulder, assuring her it would be alright. Perhaps I'm stronger, or perchance... I was weaker, because she was freely able to show her pain and let it out. One tear after another, it left her.

But as the fateful day approached, I found myself stowing more and more tears, sadness, and anger. Even after touching Nizibel's lips, my sorrow came spewing out when the word from my father came home. "It's about your Mama... She's in the Hospital."

Nothing made sense for a time. Nizibel chose, after the first kiss, to leave the situation be and not pursue a venture in a childhood friend. She chose the right path, supporting me and Laine as we watched our Mother slip away, and our Father walk. I gave up love myself, and edged a path to keep my young sister afloat. Even when times were at their worst, I kept our little boat floating.

My feeling, in the end, came true. That incident showed me that "the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." True to the nature of those words, I now have new meaning in the words, "Do or Die." It sickens me to think that there was nothing I could moderately accomplish in this world to prevent that incident, yet I knew about it. I knew of it, and couldn't do a goddamn thing.

But that's all behind me.

I pulled and tugged at the heartstrings of melody, a sweet tune played between the rain and the ground. Nizibel walked beside me, carrying an injured Umbreon, bandaged and well hidden in her arms. I carried that old umbrella I always kept, Jolteon stretched between my arm's stance. He was exhausted, his body completely drained of energy, but his morale soaring. The lights lining the street flickered to life, their bodies humming under the darkening downpour. The road was a glossy black mirror, framed in gray concrete, that reflected every action we took. Nizibel lightly petted Umbreon, as the Pokemon slept in silent bliss. We remained silent as we ventured the roads and alleys, but under our breath, a collective smile took place. We arose from the darkened city side into a bright and colorful atmosphere, where a nurse awaited at the counter. She called a pair of Chancey, whom appeared with a pair of stretcher-like padded carts.

Jolteon and Umbreon were wheeled into the back room, as Nizibel and I found a place in the Trainer's Lounge to comfortably situate ourselves in the building devoid of other trainers. After a passage of time, Nizibel had removed her glasses, placing them delicately on the table nearby, then laid her head on my lap, falling asleep without hesitation. I pulled my laptop from its bag at my side, performing calculations and updating variables. Soft music played from overhead, as the night encroached on the sleepy little city of Violet. The piano notes were crisp and clear, and the background band accompanied them perfectly. The soft clack and clicks of the computer were the only sounds in the lobby of the small Pokémon Center.

As Nizibel stirred softly, I imagined entries of data floating through the air, as though flotsam in the night's brisk air. Though I did not hesitate to ignore the new sound, the bell over the door of the Center sounded with a small but carried digital sound. The man perused about, but I continued looking at the laptop screen. The man sat down at the armchair to my right, on the end of the table which I sat on the edge of the sofa nearest him. I glanced towards him, recognizing the Violet Gym Leader by his clothing. He wore a fantastically designed leisure suit, adorned with white as a base color, and dark blue accents.

"Falkner." I said calmly, returning to the computer screen.

"Blackheart." He said, in a defeated tone. He sighed, and pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket.

"There's no smoking in here, you know." I said, not looking away from my screen.

He had the cigarette to his lips, and a lighter at the other end. "I know. It's a bad habit." He put away the lighter, and allowed the cigarette to hang from his lips. He rubbed his cleanly shaved face, as though stalling.

"You had a reason for coming after us." I said, grinning slightly, setting my folding computer on the table.

"You really are as sharp as the old man said." He admitted, looking down.

"You know," I interjected, pointedly, "I always heard you preferred the Japanese warrior look, what's going on with the leisure suit?"

He smiled warmly. "That's actually a question I've been waiting for someone to ask." He said, leaning back. "Because honestly, I don't know."

I twitched my eyebrows as Nizibel stirred slightly. "Don't know? Is that some kind of joke?"

"No, unfortunately," He said with a sigh, "I just... I felt like something was going to happen. It happened, then my life became really complicated."

I thought for a moment. "I know the feeling. Damn, do I know the feeling." I said, running my fingers through the unconscious girl's hair.

"I guess I found myself an adult, and suddenly felt like I needed to act like one, too." He said, examining the cuffs of his suit.

"You realized that your warrior's getup was more like a fantasy, a way to escape reality and hide yourself in it." I stated in a wise tone.

"That's it right there. I found myself hiding in what I was wearing, and now I'm 28 and I can barely hold myself to believe I once dressed like that." He confessed. "Like I was wearing armor around my heart, then I decided it was becoming too heavy." He padded his chest.

"You wear what you want because it's comfortable, not because it's stylish or pretty. If I could wear anything on the planet, I would wear what I'm wearing right now." I said, running my hand on the suede material on the buttoned navy shirt I wore.

"I agree." He said, straightening his collar. "This suit is partially to look good in front of potentially dozens of trainers a week," He complimented, "But I like it because I feel more at ease and clear headed when I dress like this." His smile suddenly faded, as his breath escaped him. "But, I didn't come to talk pleasantries." He looked directly at me, locking eye contact.

"You came about the gym badge, didn't you?" I said, matching his glance.

"Very astute. The truth is, I feel that you have done me a great service. Your battle with Monty was actually two things: I heard from John at the bar down the street that you were here solely to become a trainer, to gain the 8 badges and compete in the Johto Elite Four Challenge, then the Championship." He said, raising his posture towards me.

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't plan on _giving_ me the badge, do you?"

He reached into his coat pocket. "Indeed I do. You did me a great service with Monty, and as well I used that to gauge your skills. To be honest, I have never seen a Jolteon with that much raw power. You've amazed me without a doubt." He pulled the Zephyrbadge from his pocket, and held it out to me. "Estel Blackheart, I wish to officially award you this, the Zephyrbadge, for excellent skills in battle, and profound skills as a trainer."

"I refuse." I said, pulling my laptop towards me.

Falkner's expression dropped. His confusion boiled to the surface as my face became aglow with the soft hum of the computer's screen. "Why? I just offered you an official Pokémon League badge."

"I didn't earn it. Not from battling the Leader, as described by the Pokémon League rules." I said, calmly.

He sighed deeply. "If that's the way you feel about it..."

Suddenly, there was a small voice. "Take it."

Falkner and I both looked towards Nizibel, whose voice broke the tension. "Just take it, Estel." Nizibel said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

"It doesn't seem right. I haven't earned..." I began, but was interrupted.

"Yes you did. You performed a task that the Leader of the gym put before you to test your skills. There's actually nothing in the rules that says its the Leader himself you need to battle for the badge. Just that you need to battle in order to satisfy the Leader's standards." She said, yawning.

"She's got a point there." Falkner said, holding out the badge.

I thought for a moment, shutting down the computer. I engrossed myself into the situation, pondering from every angle. I looked at Nizibel, whose eyes glittered with respect and awe. I sighed, "Alright. I'll accept the badge."

Falkner and I stood, as the Gym Leader held out the badge, "Very well then, I'll start over. Estel Blackheart, I hereby present to you the Zephyrbadge, in accordance with the Pokémon League Rules, stating that you have completed Violet City Gym's specifications, and have our gratitude."

I accepted the badge, "But gratitude can be laid aside if the battle with Monty was part of the test." I held the badge to the light, watching it glimmer.

"Not gratitude for that. For honesty, my good man." He said, smiling warmly.

"So it stands," I said, laughing. Our hands locked, pressing together and shaking as Nizibel giggled.

Author's Note Time!

Hey everyone, Esteel here, just wanting to give a major shout-out to all those who have stayed with me this far. I really enjoy writing this fic, and enjoy coming up with ways to really startle you folks. That, in turn, gives a major shoutout to Kapskaen, who has helped me come up with some of the most fucked up shit because he keeps figuring out what I'm gonna do next. I highly recommend him as beta reader, and hope he has a lot of success with his Legend of Zelda / Bleach hybrid fic!

I also want to take a moment to recap everyone's party and what level they are. When I say, "Rank" in the story, its relative to other Pokémon. Not exactly trustworthy. Unless otherwise specified, all attacks, natures and ability names are actually used in the games, thus can be researched if you have a question. Here goes:

Estel Blackheart, age 21

Specialization: Eevee

#1: Umbreon (Male)

Type: DRK

Level: 36

Atk: 61

Def: 96

Sp. Atk: 65

Sp. Def: 100

Spd: 62

Attack 1: Faint Attack

Attack 2: Bite

Attack 3: Shadow Ball

Attack 4: Flash

Nature: Rash

Ability: Synchronize

#2: Flareon (Female)

Type: FIR

Level: 44

Atk: 133

Def: 71

Sp. Atk: 102

Sp. Def: 115

Spd: 75

Attack 1: Flamethrower

Attack 2: Overheat

Attack 3: Bite

Attack 4: Blast Burn

Nature: Docile

Ability: Flashfire

#3: ? (Sorry, can't reveal what's in the purple ball yet :D )

Type: ?

Level: ?

Atk: ?

Def: ?

Sp. Atk: ?

Sp. Def: ?

Spd: ?

Attack 1: ?

Attack 2: ?

Attack 3: ?

Attack 4: ?

Nature: ?

Ability: ?

#4: Jolteon (Jolts, Jolt) (Male)

Type: ELE

Level: ? (Indiscernible)

Atk: 168

Def: 158

Sp. Atk: _Jesus Christ_

Sp. Def: 205

Spd: _Physics defying_

Attack 1: Double Kick

Attack 2: Thunder

Attack 3: Shockwave

Attack 4: Hyper Cannon

Nature: Rash

Ability: Supercharge

*Hyper Cannon isn't canon. It's homebrew.

*Supercharge is a homebrew ability. It causes Jolteon to be healed by 1/8 of the damage and gets a 1-stage boost to Sp. Atk. when hit by electrical attacks.

Nizibel Evans, age 20

Specialization: Ghost/Psychic

#1: Misdreavus (Missy) (Female)

Type: GHO

Level: 36

Atk: 59

Def: 59

Sp. Atk: 69

Sp. Def: 84

Spd: 77

Attack 1: Psychic

Attack 2: Night Shade

Attack 3: Confuse Ray

Attack 4: Shadow Ball

Nature: Careful

Ability: Levitate

#2: Haunter (Male)

Type: GHO/PSN

Level: 29

Atk: 42

Def: 40

Sp. Atk: 72

Sp. Def: 45

Spd: 75

Attack 1: Mean Look

Attack 2: Curse

Attack 3: Lick

Attack 4: Shadow Punch

Nature: Jolly

Ability: Levitate

#3: Wobbuffet (Wally) (Male)

Type: PSY

Level: 32

Atk: 39

Def: 52

Sp. Atk: 32

Sp. Def: 52

Spd: 36

Attack 1: Counter

Attack 2: Mirror Coat

Attack 3: Safeguard

Attack 4: Destiny Bond

Nature: Adamant

Ability: Shadow Tag

#4: Porygon2

Type: NOR

Level: 42

Atk: 85

Def: 102

Sp. Atk: 106

Sp. Def: 87

Spd: 68

Attack 1: Psybeam

Attack 2: Recover

Attack 3: Ice Beam

Attack 4: Shock Wave

Nature: Lax

Ability: Download

**Yea, I added this one as a WTF. Problem, bro?

Toshiro Ryujin, age 18

Specialization: Ice

#1: Lapras (Female)

Type: WAT/ICE

Level: 36

Atk: 77

Def: 65

Sp. Atk: 77

Sp. Def: 92

Spd: 59

Attack 1: Ice Beam

Attack 2: Perish Song

Attack 3: Water Pulse

Attack 4: Mist

Nature: Gentle

Ability: Shell Armor

#2: Castform (Female)

Type: NOR

Level: 30

Atk: 61

Def: 56

Sp. Atk: 56

Sp. Def: 56

Spd: 50

Attack 1: Powder Snow

Attack 2: Hail

Attack 3: Water Gun

Attack 4: Rainy Day

Nature: Brave

Ability: Forecast

#3: Glalie (Male)

Type: ICE

Level: 45

Atk: 81

Def: 99

Sp. Atk: 90

Sp. Def: 90

Spd: 90

Attack 1: Icy Wind

Attack 2: Crunch

Attack 3: Blizzard

Attack 4: Hail

Nature: Bold

Ability: Ice Body

**Glalie was a trade deal for Dragonair

#4: Pikachu (Male)

Type: ELE

Level: 12

Atk: 21

Def: 15

Sp. Atk: 20

Sp. Def: 18

Spd: 30

Attack 1: Thundershock

Attack 2: Thunderwave

Attack 3: Tail Whip

Attack 4: Growl

Nature: Bashful

Ability: Static

*Not used in combat, Pet

Kit Blace, age 20

Specialization: Fire

#1: Charizard (Male)

Type: FIR/FLY

Level: 37

Atk: 78

Def: 74

Sp. Atk: 97

Sp. Def: 79

Spd: 90

Attack 1: Fly

Attack 2: Flamethrower

Attack 3: Fire Fang

Attack 4: Rock Smash

Nature: Serious

Ability: Blaze

#2: Blaziken (Female)

Type: FIR/FIG

Level: 40

Atk: 113

Def: 73

Sp. Atk: 105

Sp. Def: 73

Spd: 81

Attack 1: Double Kick

Attack 2: Blaze Kick

Attack 3: Flamethrower

Attack 4: Low Sweep

Nature: Hardy

Ability: Blaze

#3: Arcanine (Male)

Type: FIR

Level: 41

Atk: 107

Def: 74

Sp. Atk: 99

Sp. Def: 83

Spd: 104

Attack 1: Fire Fang

Attack 2: Bulldoze

Attack 3: Extreme Speed

Attack 4: Flame Charge

Nature: Hasty

Ability: Intimidate

That's the end of the fairly lengthy party detail section. I hope you're enjoying the fanfic so far, and remember to vote/leave reviews so I know what to improve!


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